Sanctuary
by weemcg33
Summary: Clint ran away from the orphanage at the age of nine after his brother left him behind, abandoning him. Clint spends the next three years living in the streets, staying invisible and surviving. Fate decides to intervene, bringing Clint face to face with Agent Phil Coulson. Will the Agent be able to get Clint to trust him and give him what he really needs...a family? Rated T
1. Chapter 1

Sanctuary

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers because if I did…..well let's just think about that for a second ;)

Authors Note: This story is an AU to my other story 'Father and Son'. Phil didn't go to the orphanage and adopt Clint, instead Barton ran away at the age of nine after his brother left him behind, abandoning him. Clint spends the next three years living in the streets, staying invisible and surviving. Fate decides to intervene, bringing Clint face to face with Agent Phil Coulson. Will the Agent be able to give Clint what he really needs...a family?

It's finally finished, woohoo! I'm so sorry for how long it's taken to get this story posted. Life as usual had gotten in the way.

I would like to say a huge thank you to my beta, DevinBourdain. You helped me make this story so much more than I originally planned. Thank You :)

Just to let you all know this story is already complete, a whopping 21 Chapters, and has the possibility of a sequel but I'm going to wait and see what everyone thinks before starting on it. *wink* *wink*

Hope you like!

* * *

_"Fate is never fair. You are caught in a current much stronger than you are; struggle against it and you'll drown not just yourself but those who try to save you. Swim with it. and you'll survive" ― Cassandra Clare._

* * *

The small, malnourished, dishevelled boy moved silently through the streets and back alleys. He was a shadow, a ghost in the darkness. No one even thought to look twice at the young boy as he skittered away behind dumpsters to avoid the passing lights of cars and restaurant side doors.

No one really cared. He couldn't remember if anyone had ever cared.

He waited pressed between the cold stone walls and industrial size dumpsters, for the hapless teenager to finish dumping the scraps from dinner service in the trash. As the back door slammed shut, taking with it the bright lights of the world belonging to the privileged, the boy cautiously crept closer to his goal. Hunger didn't allow for pride and the small child had to wipe the drool at the corner of his mouth from the sight of the feast that could be his. He hated what he'd been reduced to, but it was the only way he could survive. Not asking for help was something that was ingrained in him from a young age. He felt it meant you were weak if you had to ask, so he just soldiered on.

The scruffy youngster had managed to find a few good spots where lots of scraps of food could be found, he would change his routine every few days, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself.

There was one place in particular he found himself coming back to week after week, Antonio's. The owner of the small family owned restaurant never spoke to him, not wanting to throw off the fragile balance of trust that had been built between them, though he couldn't hide the sympathetic look that graced his features when he placed the pizza box on top of the trash. It was a look that was heartfelt with notes of understanding and all too familiarity that screamed the man understood. It became a ritual of sorts, the pristinely white pizza box settled on top so as not to touch the ravaged remnants of other's feasts. It bore what was the highest treasure a street kid could dream of, fresh untouched slices of pizza.

The skinny boy's mouth watered at the thought of the cheese pizza with pepperoni, beef and mushrooms from Antonio's. Sadly, tonight he was on the other side of town. Gangs had started moving into his usual spots and he didn't want any trouble. He was invisible for a reason, he hated confrontation and if it were possible he would run away every time. That wasn't always possible though.

The young boy rubbed his sore ribs as he thought of his last run in with the gangs. They'd chased him out of _their_ neighbourhood and while Clint Barton had managed to survive this long by being fast, almost slippery, managing to disappear before they caught up with him, he hadn't avoided the collision with a car as it pulled out of a side street. The driver hadn't been going very fast, which probably saved him from being taken to the hospital. Not counting the fact that he didn't have the money or insurance for a trip to the hospital, but hospital's brought official looking people with good intentions that always placed Barton in more precarious situation.

Clint crept closer to the trash can and pulled out a container with what was left of a burger and some fries. He moved quickly back to his hidden corner and sat down, pulling his knees up balancing the container on top, then took a bite out of the burger. He hummed in pleasure as he swallowed the food, it was pretty damn good, especially since he hadn't eaten much in the past few days.

Living on the streets had taught Clint that if you found food you ate it right away or you wouldn't eat. The others living on the streets fought over food or drugs, all the time.

Clint finished the burger and the few fries putting the empty container back in the trash. He scurried back into the shadows making his way back to his hide out. It was about a twenty minute walk to the abandoned building. But before he reached the end of the street that would take him onto the main road, the youngster heard sirens and ducked back into the shadows of a nearby alley. Breathing a sigh of relief as they zoomed past, then frowning as he realised they had turned the corner heading towards his sanctuary.

The boy moved closer to the corner and peeked his head round and groaned when he saw two fire engines already there fighting the fire that was spreading quickly through the building. The police officers had jumped out of their cars and were moving any passers-by back and out of the way. An ambulance was present just in case but Clint knew the building was empty.

Clint leaned back against the wall and banged his head against it, _great_. All his stuff was in there, hidden. It wasn't much but it was all he had left from his time at the orphanage. The little keepsakes he had managed to keep hold of from before his parents died were in there. He angrily wiped away the tears that had fallen, he wasn't a baby anymore and it _was_ only stuff, but to him they couldn't be replaced. A picture of his mum and dad from before he was born, a well-worn copy of _Robin Hood_ that his mother used to read to him and a pocket knife his brother had given him. The knife was the last thing and only thing Barney ever gave him before he ran away leaving Clint alone at the orphanage. He had wanted to throw away the knife with the hawk engraved on it, his anger at being abandoned by the only person he had left demanded it, but in the end he couldn't bear the thought of throwing away the only thing he had left of his brother. Clint loved Hawks. He loved the idea of being to fly away, fly away from all hurt, sadness and pain, fly away to some imaginary place where he could be safe and loved.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, the scrawny kid headed away from the fire that had now destroyed any physical memory of his parents and brother. Maybe it was for the best, he was a ghost after all.

* * *

Clint wasn't sure how long he'd been walking but at some point his clothes had become soaked from the downpour that had flooded the street and filled the air with a wet earthy sent. He needed to find shelter. He glanced around and noticed that he had ended up in one of the nicer neighbourhoods, but that also meant it would be harder to find someplace uninhabited. It was late, so most of the lights in the houses were off. Walking stealthily down the street, hiding behind bushes and cars he searched for a good place to hide.

He spotted a nice house at the end of the street, the garden was taken care of, there were no kid's toys lying about and no car in the driveway. Clint moved quietly, his ears attuned to any danger. Once he made his way around the back of the house he smiled in relief at the shed that sat at the end of the garden. He stopped in front of the wooden door, pleasantly surprised to find it wasn't locked. Such a classy neighbourhood didn't have to worry about vagrants or other unsavoury characters helping themselves to the bountiful loot each house possessed, people of that clavier stood out like a sore thumb.

Clint pushed the door open and stepped inside the dry hut. Peeling his wet jacket off, he hung it on top of a broom sitting in the corner. He glanced around the small space and noticed a shelving unit with various tools for gardening and smiled when he spotted the large dust cover folded up in the corner. It was dirty and covered in dried paint but it was dry and would keep him warm, well, warmer than sleeping outside. He stripped out of his soaked trousers and hung them next to the jacket, then settled in the corner pulling the cover around him. He hadn't realised how tired he was until his head touched the floor and he was out for the count.

* * *

When Clint finally came to, it was early morning. Light was creeping in from the small window and made him groan and pull the cover over his head. He hated day time, and wondered if he would be able to hide out in here for the day and start moving again at night. Standing and stretching the kinks out of his back from lying on the hard floor, Clint wondered if he would ever get used to it. _Probably not_.

He checked his jacket and trousers, pleased to feel that they were only a little damp. He sat in the corner and pulled the cover back around him. When he heard voices coming from outside he almost jumped in surprise. Scrambling quickly to his feet he listened at the door.

"Just get the ball, David. Mr Coulson isn't in."

"You go get it!" Came the squeaky reply from a younger boy.

"Fine….whimp," was muttered back.

Clint shook his head and leaned against the door, just kids getting a ball. He sighed and moved away from the door. Clint could vaguely remember his dad taking him to the park with Barney and throwing a ball around, or playing baseball. His dad had told him he would sign him up for the kiddie league because he had talent. Two weeks later everything changed, playing sports had been the last thing on his mind. He'd just wanted his parents back.

Clint waited till the voices disappeared before peeking outside. He stared at the house and noticed for the first time that there was a dog flap, he arched an eyebrow; he could fit through that. With a quick glance at the driveway he saw that 'Mr Coulson' still wasn't home. He could risk going in just for some food and get back out again. Nodding to himself and grabbing his trousers, he pulled them back on. Pocking his head outside for any sign of those kids, he moved quickly towards the back door. He pushed the dog flap open and stuck his head through first, making sure a dog wasn't there. He hadn't heard any barking and he didn't think the owner would leave the dog by itself all night. He climbed through easily and looked around, everything was neat and tidy, nothing seemed out of place, kind of OCD, Clint thought. He'd just have to make sure he put everything back the way he found it, just in case.

Once he found the kitchen he walked over to the double sized fridge, he couldn't believe the size of this place. It was huge, and one guy lived here? Clint shook his head, he was lucky to have a roof over his head most nights while this guy was living in luxury and wasn't even here to enjoy it. _Well_, he thought_, I'll just have to enjoy it for him_. He opened the fridge and felt his jaw go slack at the sight of all the food that filled it. There were tubs of what he assumed to be takeout food, a plate of cooked chicken that was wrapped with cling wrap, lots of different meats and a drawer of salad at the bottom.

Clint clamped his mouth shut and started pulling stuff out. He grabbed one of the tubs of noodles, two pieces of cooked chicken and some ham. He could already feel his mouth watering. Taking small enough portions that no one would notice their absence, he wrapped everything back up and placed it back where he found it. He snagged a can of Pepsi before closing the door. He opened a few other cupboards until he found a plastic bag and put the food inside before heading back towards the door. He stopped and took one last look around then climbed through the flap. Some people just didn't realise what they had.

Clint vanished back inside the shed and pulled out the white tub filled with left over noodles from the bag and used his fingers to drop them into his mouth. Man they tasted good. He realised he'd ate the whole lot when his fingers touched the bottom of the container. He cast a look inside just to make sure there were no noodles hiding from him and sighed when he didn't see any. He eyed the other food in the bag but decided to leave it for now. That food would keep him going for a few days and he was pretty sure no one else here would be trying to steal food from him. The people here most likely threw out copious amounts of food. He might even stick around for a little bit, get some decent grub for a change.

Clint sat with his back against the door and pulled the cover back around himself. He'd try and get some rest and go hunting tonight. He smiled as he imagined the goodies he might find. This could be the best place he'd found by far, he just hoped no one else thought to try it. He didn't need the competition.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: A huge thanks to all that added this to your favourites and those that reviewed -** lovinthor, kimbee, sammygirl1963, Guest, Lollypops101** and **Anise Nadiah**.

On to the next chapter, as promised ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

Phil Coulson sighed as he pulled up in front of his house. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he kept it, work kept him away so often that he was almost never home. The agent had just gotten back from a mission in Dusseldorf, wanting nothing more than to lie in his comfy bed and not think about the fact he would be back at the SHIELD base in less than eight hours. He opened the car door and walked to the trunk, pulling his large duffel bag out slinging it over his shoulder. Locking the car he walked to the front door when his eyes caught sight of the dog kennel at the far end of the garden, he felt his emotions bubbling to the surface again as he thought about his beloved dog Phoenix. The Alsatian had been hit by a car the week before Phil was sent away and had to be put to sleep. Phil had been heartbroken, leaving for the mission in an awful mood. The other agents had stayed clear of him and done everything he asked so as not to incur his wrath. The agent was always calm, collected and utterly no nonsense in his everyday tasks but everyone had noticed his mood and stayed clear.

He'd have to remember that when he wanted people to leave him be.

Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he slid it into the lock and twisted, then pushing the door open and stepping inside the dark house. Maybe he should think about leaving a light on, let the neighbours think he actually still lived here. Phil dropped the heavy bag onto the sofa and made his way into the kitchen. He'd pop a couple of painkillers for the pounding in his head which started a few hours ago and then he'd get some much needed rest.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, the tired agent left the water running for thirty second so it was nice and cold before filling his glass. He popped the two pills into his mouth and swallowed them down with a gulp of water. Then placed the glass next to the sink and headed upstairs to his bed where he made an attempt to get undressed but gave up after taking his jacket and tie off. He flopped face first onto the comfy bed and as soon as his head connected with the pillow, the agent was out like a light.

* * *

When Phil awoke the next morning he blinked blearily at his clock then vaulted out of bed, _he was late_. He grabbed his phone from the side table and flipped it open, seven missed calls, all from Nick Fury. _Fantastic_.

Phil pressed to return the call and raised his hand to cover the yawn that escaped. He couldn't possibly still be tired. "Fury," came the usual greeting from the director of SHIELD.

"It's Coulson sir. Sorry I slept in, I'm leaving right now." Phil spoke quickly as he grabbed a fresh shirt and trousers from his wardrobe.

"It's fine Phil, just take the day. I know you've been under a lot of stress the past few weeks," Fury explained.

"Sir?" Phil stopped his movements and stared at the phone in confusion. Fury didn't just give people the day off.

"You heard me Phil. And no I won't repeat it, take it or leave it. I won't offer twice." Phil could just imagine the knowing smirk on his normally straight faced boss.

"Thank you sir." Phil smiled and felt himself relax. He couldn't remember the last time he had a day off.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't breathe a word of this to anyone, I'm still a badass boss," Fury chuckled.

"My lips are sealed director. Thank you," Phil told him.

"See you tomorrow Phil." And with that the line went dead. Phil tossed the phone onto his bed and stretched. He couldn't remember the last time he had a holiday, or a day off that wasn't work related and Coulson planned on making the most of it. There were things he needed to do around the house, and he would most likely have to go shopping for food, the items he had in the fridge had been there a while and he didn't want to risk it.

Putting the trousers and shirt back on their hangers, Phil pulled out his casual attire, a pair of jeans and a light t-shirt. He headed into the shower first and felt himself truly relax under the hot spray, then he got out, dried himself and changed into his chill out clothes.

The agent focussed his energy on his kitchen, cleaning and throwing out most of the food from the fridge. He frowned when he pulled out some of the tubs, he'd been sure there were more than that. Maybe he had eaten some of them on one of his late night arrivals back to the house. He glanced around the now tidy kitchen before making his way into the living room, he couldn't see anything out of place and if anything had been taken he was sure the first thing to go would have been his flat screen television. He shrugged to himself. Perhaps it was simply because he didn't spend much time in the house that made him think things were out of place.

It was almost three hours later when Phil decided it was time to venture into the garden. He had put off dealing with the dog's things, but there was no excuse to keep putting it off any longer. With a heavy heart he bent down to pick up the kennel when a noise caught his attention. Coulson stood still for a second and waited to see if he would hear the noise again; he did. His eyes narrowed at the shed and he crept closer. The experienced agent reached down and pulled his back up gun from his ankle holster and made his way quietly to the door. He peeked in the small window but couldn't see anything but the dust cover he knew he'd left on the shelving, folded up. It was currently spread across the floor.

Phil stopped in front of the door and slowly pushed it open, he saw a figure huddled under the cover and stepped closer with his gun held tightly in his right hand. He reached out with his left to touch the person hiding underneath when they were suddenly scrambling out from under the cover and pushing Phil back a step. The surprised agent would have fired a shot into the roof of the shed had the safety not been on. Coulson tried to calm his frayed nerves and took in the sight before him. It wasn't at all what he'd expected. A young boy of perhaps ten years of age was cowering in the far corner of the small shed. The kid held his hands up, showing he didn't have any weapons and stared at Phil in absolute terror. It was only when Phil realised he still had the gun pointed towards the boy that he understood why he was so scared.

Then the agent got pissed.

"Jesus Christ kid, what the hell do you think you're playing at?" The boy shrunk back even more if that were possible and looked like he wanted nothing more than to vanish into thin air. Phil took another step towards the kid and noticed a plastic bag filled with food, it looked suspiciously like the food he thought was missing from his fridge and once he spotted the white tub with the red tiger on the side he just knew this kid had broken into his home.

"You broke into my house?!" Phil shouted, it was only when he took another step closer that he realised the young boy was shaking like a leaf, his hands held out in front of him as if to defend himself from being hit.

Phil froze when the boy finally spoke. "P-please don't h-hurt me. I only t-took some f-food, nothing e-else, I s-swear." The kid had tears streaming down his cheeks and Phil finally looked at the boy and noticed the filthy clothes hanging loosely on his frame and the fact that he looked like he hadn't eaten in months. Phil eyed the empty container then back at the boy, it may have been his imagination but the kid was looking a little green around the edges. He wasn't surprised, Coulson couldn't remember the last time he checked his fridge.

_Damn_. The kid was homeless.

Phil felt like kicking himself and when he ventured forward another step, the kid looked like he might have a full blown panic attack. His breathing was coming out in short bursts. The agent crouched down a few feet away and showed he was putting his gun away and held out his own hands in an unthreatening manner. He needed to show the kid he wasn't going to hurt him.

"Just take slow deep breaths kid. I'm not going to hurt you." Phil spoke softly, the anger he'd felt moments before had all but disappeared.

Phil watched the boy pull his knees up to his chest and try to slow his breathing, his eyes never left Phil's hands; he was making sure he wasn't going to hurt him. The older man really wanted to hit something, how anyone could let this happen to their kid was beyond him.

When it looked like the scruffy kid had calmed slightly, Phil stood up slowly, still trying to look unthreatening. "Come inside kid, I'll get you something proper to eat."

The boy stared at him for a long moment, his blue eyes boring into Phil's and he had to force himself not to look away. Jeez the kid's eyes were intense, it was almost like they saw right through him.

He noticed the kid was still a bit shaky and sweat was pouring off of him, soaking the too large t-shirt he wore. The youngster managed to get to his knees when he promptly threw up his last meal. Phil started to move forward to help but the boy flinched away from him.

Coulson stepped back and gave the boy some room, watching as the boy stood slowly, one arm wrapped around his ribs. Phil frowned in concern then watched as the kid took a hesitant step forward before his face turned white as a sheet and his eyes rolled up in his head, the boy would have hit the deck if not for Phil's quick reflexes. He cradled the kid in his arms and stood carefully, pushing back the worry he was feeling and made his way back into the house. The boy was light as a feather and Coulson had to grit his teeth in anger.

What kind of person let this happen to a child?

Once inside Phil made his way over to the sofa and gently put the boy down. He wasn't sure why he did it, but he found himself brushing the kid's hair back from his face. It was long, scruffy and in need of a wash. He would check the kid over and then see about getting him cleaned up. Phil made his way to the bathroom and grabbed his first aid kit, then headed back into the living room. The kid hadn't moved.

Phil set the box down and crouched next to the sofa, he rested the back of his hand on the boy's forehead and frowned when he realised how hot he was. The agent checked him over quickly. He knew basic first aid and hoped the kid wouldn't need more than that, but when he lifted the boys t-shirt and saw the bruising on his stomach and ribs, he realised he needed help.

Phil flipped his phone open and hit the speed dial.

"_Fury_."

"Sir, it's me…" Phil was cut off with the director's reply.

"_Thought I told you to take the day Phil_?"

"Yes sir, it's just I have a situation here, I need one of our medics to come to my house." Coulson could just imagine the surprised look on his boss's face.

"_What's going on Phil? Are you alright_?" Fury asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"It's not for me sir, I found a kid in my back garden. I don't have time to go into to it right now though, could you please send someone out?" Phil found himself pleading with Fury as he watched the kid lying unmoving on his sofa.

"_Of course, they're on their way Phil. Then you can explain to me what the hell is going on_." Phil found himself nodding even though he knew his boss couldn't see him. "Yes sir."

Phil placed his phone on the table and moved quickly to the bathroom again, grabbing clean towels and filling a glass with water then made his way back to the kid's side. He dabbed a wet towel over the boy's forehead and almost fell backwards when the kid sighed in relief, leaning into the touch. Phil watched the youngster's face for any sign that he was going to wake up but there was nothing. He didn't realise how long he'd sat there dabbing the kid's forehead and face until there was a knock at the door. He stood making it to the door in three steps. Coulson pulled it open and motioned the field medic Sam, inside.

"What we got Phil?" Sam asked as made his way over to the boy, setting his kit on the floor next to him.

"I found him sleeping in my shed, tried to get him to come inside but when he stood up he went white as a sheet and passed out. There is some bruising on his stomach and ribs," Phil told him as he stood to the side and let Sam do his thing.

Sam nodded and lifted the boy's shirt up, swearing under his breath. "Jesus, how was this kid even standing? It looks pretty bad Phil, we'll need to take him in."

Phil nodded, he'd hoped they wouldn't need to, the kid had freaked out with Phil; he wasn't sure how he would react to being in a medical unit in a large base, surrounded by lots of agents with guns. This could be a disaster, but looking down at the unconscious boy Coulson knew it was for the best.

Sam and Phil transported the boy to the back of the car where they laid him out on the back seat. Phil sat in the back with him, cradling the kid's head on his thigh and brushing his fingers through the boy's longish hair. There still hadn't been any sort of reaction from the youngster by the time they arrived at SHIELD and Sam had other medics waiting with a stretcher to whisk the kid away to get help.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: A huge thank you to all who have added to your favourites, following and those that reviewed - **Hope06, Lollypops101, lovinthor, BookFreak**, **Anise Nadiah**, **sammygirl1963** and **kimbee**.

Your kind words made my day!

On to the next chapter!

* * *

Phil followed behind, he wasn't sure why but he felt he needed to be there. He stopped outside the medical bay and sat in one of the chairs, making himself as comfortable as possible; it was probably going to be a long wait. Ten minutes passed when he caught a glimpse of a black leather coat and couldn't help but smile. The Director of SHIELD didn't just leave what he was doing for anyone; Phil just seemed to bring that side out in Fury for some reason.

"What happened Phil?" Fury asked as he stopped in front of his agent and glanced through the glass window to the medical bay, watching as the staff worked on the young boy, then turned back to his agent.

Phil sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "He was sleeping in my shed, managed to get into my house while I was away and took some food. I heard a noise coming from the shed and found him sleeping under my dust cover." Phil watched as his normally straight faced boss struggled to keep his mask in place, kids were a soft spot for both of them. "I had my gun out thinking it was an intruder, the kid freaked, pleaded with me not to hurt him, and then had a panic attack. When I got him to calm down, I asked him to come inside so I could get him some food. He stood up and then just collapsed. I think he might have been beaten, there were bruises covering his chest and stomach."

Fury clenched his hands into fists and forced himself not to hit the wall in frustration. Nick hated when bad things happened to kids and looking at the young boy lying in the bed, he knew that no one had looked out for this kid in a long time. The boy was a survivor and he knew that Phil wouldn't hold it against the kid for taking some food he desperately needed. He was just trying to survive after all. He looked down at his agent, and knew the expression on Phil's face was mirrored with his own; anger and concern.

"What do you plan to do?" Fury asked with a knowing look.

Phil arched an eyebrow at his boss, "I'm not sure, sir. I'm pretty sure he's either run away from home and has been living on the streets or he's an orphan and doesn't have anyone. We won't know until someone can talk to him." Phil stared at his boss. "I do know that I won't make him go back to living in the streets," he stated with conviction.

Fury smiled, he already knew that and could tell his agent was feeling responsible for the kid.

"Well, whatever you decide Phil, let me know. I'll help however I can," Nick told him.

Phil tried to hide the surprise from his face but failed miserably. "Thank you, sir."

Fury chuckled and patted him on the arm. "Less with the sir, Phil. It makes me feel old. Let me know how the kid is doing?"

"Yes sir." Phil smiled at the huff that came from his boss as he headed back down the hall.

Phil leaned his head against the wall and waited for any word on how the kid was doing. He just hoped he wouldn't be waiting too long.

* * *

Clint came back to awareness slowly. He could hear people talking to his left but couldn't make out what they were saying. When he forced his eyes open, he panicked, the room was very bright and everything was white. He saw one of the men to his left move closer and when he spotted the stethoscope hanging around the man's neck he tried to get out of the bed, _they were doctors_. And if there was one thing he hated more than police, it was doctors. He'd had too many instances where the doctor should have been reporting what was happening to him at the orphanage, but as always they turned a blind eye. Money meant more than your soul these days. That left him to his private hell, all alone.

He didn't make it out of the bed, hands gripped his wrists and feet holding him down. The overwhelming urge to scream took over and Barton sucked in a deep breath before releasing an enormous sound that a small boy shouldn't be able to make.

Clint fought against them, struggling to pull his arms free but they held tighter, he managed to get his leg free and kicked out and was satisfied when he heard someone's cry of pain, served them right. He was petrified at what they might do to him, he didn't know who these people were or why they had him. He remembered the man with the gun, talking to him, then nothing more. Was he here, did he order them to do this? Barton was sure he was being punished. Then he felt a warm sensation flow through him and knew they had him beat. They'd drugged him. He was sure he heard a familiar voice shouting something but the drugs pulled him under.

Phil stood at the side of the bed glaring at each of the medical staff that had held the kid down. Of course the boy was frightened, he was somewhere he didn't recognise, with people he didn't know surrounding him, then they had pinned him to the bed. Coulson knew they were just trying to stop the kid from hurting himself, but when he had heard that scream while sitting outside, everything inside him froze. He ran through the doors demanding to know what the hell they were doing. He'd never heard that sound come from a small child before and _never_ wanted to hear it again. Phil had been on missions before where agents had been tortured, it was something that stayed with him even after so many years. But hearing the terrified screams coming from the young kid before him had put a fear in Phil that he wasn't used to feeling. _Helplessness_. A child shouldn't know that kind of pain.

Now Phil stood daring any of them to come near. He clenched his hand tightly around the metal frame of the bed trying desperately to keep it together. Phil wasn't sure what it was about this kid that was bringing out the protective side in him, all he knew was that it was there and it wasn't going away any time soon. A light touch on his hand had him whipping his head around to the young boy. Blue eyes stared up at him and he could tell right away the kid was still pretty out of it.

"Wh're am….?" He asked while struggling to sit up. Phil placed a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, not prepared for the kid to flinch away from him. He should have expected it though, he had pointed his gun at the youngster.

"You're in SHIELD medical. It's a government organization, kind of like the FBI," Phil explained softly. "Do you remember what happened before you woke up here?"

The boy looked confused and glanced around the room, his eyes focussed on the medics who were standing outside the room. He panicked again, remembering their hands holding him down, making him feel trapped. Coulson tried to calm him without physically touching the boy but the child was having none of it. Clint started pulling at the wires ripping his I.V out before Phil could stop him. The agent had no choice but to let the medics back inside. They did their best to hold the boy without hurting him and gave him a sedative. Once it took effect and the boy was unconscious the medical staff started to attach the wires he'd pulled out.

Phil went back to standing outside, scrubbing a hand through his short hair in frustration. The kid didn't trust anyone that was for sure. It was going to take some time to get him to open up.

So Coulson waited, he was good at waiting and considered himself to be very patient. He had no idea the kind of traumatic experiences the kid had probably been through. He didn't know if the boy had run away from home because of abusive parents or if he didn't have anyone and had been put into care, then run away. Phil couldn't imagine being left all alone. He was part of a large family, three sisters, his parents and lots of cousins, aunts and uncles. From the looks of things this kid had no one, or if he did they just didn't give a shit.

* * *

It was almost two hours later when the kid came to again, he wasn't fighting as much, but he refused to speak to anyone. Sam the medic tried to get the kid to answer some simple questions. The boy had clammed up, staring at the wall to his left to avoid prying eyes, but Sam noticed the few tears that leaked out the corner of the kid's eyes.

He sighed and stood before walking outside to speak to Phil, maybe he could get the skinny boy to talk. It was worth a try.

"Has he said anything?" Phil asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nope. Won't say a word. Do you think you could try Phil?"

Coulson stood and looked through the window, the boy was facing away from them and he was sure the kid was shaking. Giving Sam a brief nod he walked inside the room and closed the door.

Phil sat in the chair next to the bed and watched the young boy try to hide the fact that he was crying. When the gut wrenching sobs got louder, the agent decided to intervene. He placed his hand gently on the boys shoulder. The kid flinched and cried out before pulling the covers closer around him, trying desperately to curl in on himself. Phil kept his hand where it was, not doing anything other than trying to pass the kid some of his strength.

It was almost ten minutes before the youngster seemed to pull himself together. Phil removed his hand and sat back, watching and waiting. The blonde haired boy turned slowly onto his back, wiping his eyes and staring up at the ceiling before his eyes flickered to watch the older man next to him.

"Are you okay?" Phil asked carefully, those blue eyes were locked onto him again and Coulson forced himself not to look away. The boy was obviously searching for something. When it seemed he'd found whatever he been looking for, the kid nodded slowly.

"My name is Phil. Phil Coulson. Can you tell me your name?"

The boy stared at him again before looking back to the ceiling. Phil was pretty sure he wasn't getting an answer when the kid started speaking, whispering was probably more accurate.

"C-Clint….Barton."

Coulson was pleased, it wasn't much but it was a lot more than they had a few hours ago.

"Clint, I need to ask you some questions alright? If you want me to stop at any time just say so."

The youngster nodded warily, his eyes constantly darted around the room, probably searching for a way to escape, Phil thought.

"Do you have any family Clint? Someone we could get in contact with?"

Barton shook his head negatively.

"How old are you kid?"

Clint's bottom lip trembled and he bit down on it, not wanting to show any more weakness than he already had. "Almost….twelve."

Phil blinked in shock, he wouldn't have thought that. The kid did seem pretty small for his age. "Did you run away from home?"

Barton shook his head sadly. "I don't have a home." Phil had to lean closer to hear what the kid said.

Coulson was about to ask him another question when Clint beat him to it. "What's going to happen to me?" there was a tremor in his voice that Phil could tell he was trying to hide.

Phil leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We need to find out who you are and if you have any relatives before deciding what to do next."

"Am I going to be arrested?"

"Why would I do that, Clint?" Phil frowned.

If it weren't for the current situation the agent would have laughed at the 'duh' face he received. "I broke into your home."

Phil shook his head. "No you aren't going to be arrested kid."

Clint's penetrating gaze focussed on the agent again, Phil tried to be as open as he could, willing the boy to believe him. When the boy nodded numbly in acceptance and turned away from the agent, Phil knew the conversation was over.

Coulson stood and made his way to the door, stopping before he exited the room and looked over his shoulder. "I'll be back soon, Clint. Try and get some rest."

There was no answer as Phil walked out and he knew he would have to assign someone to be here constantly or the boy would no doubt bolt. Where he would go in a base this size, with agents everywhere, was anyone's guess, but he couldn't take the risk.

Phil made his way to Director Fury's office to see what they could find out with the information he had.

It was roughly an hour later when they found all the details they could on one Clinton F. Barton. It wasn't much but Phil hadn't expected there to be. The kid had been six years old when his parents were killed in a traffic accident, leaving Clint and his older brother Barney as orphans. Barney was ten and had run away from the orphanage at the age of twelve, leaving his brother behind. Clint had run away almost a year later.

Phil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. So basically the kid had no one, well he had a brother, but Coulson didn't think Barney cared very much about what happened to his baby brother. That much was obvious.

Fury watched as Phil read over the file, his agent's eyes hardening the more he read. Nick felt the same, he was angry that this little kid felt his only option was to run away, to live on the streets, rather than be taken care of by people who should be there to look out for him. He knew they would have to contact social services and try to secure a foster home for him. It wasn't going to be easy on such short notice.

Fury turned to Phil as he placed the file on the desk. "I know someone I can call Phil, but it's going to take time."

"Yes sir."

"I'm going to suggest leaving you in charge of the boy until we can sort something out."

Coulson's eyes widened in surprise. "Sir?"

Fury chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. "The kid doesn't really trust anyone at the moment, Phil. But, he has opened up to you, even if it was only a little. He didn't do that with anyone else."

Phil was shaking his head. "I don't think that's a good idea Nick. What the hell do I know about looking after a child? Wouldn't it make more sense for one of the agents that have children to take him?"

"I don't think so and if we can't arrange something I'll have to leave the kid in medical where we can make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Besides, who better than SHIELD's best to look after the kid."

It was the guilt card, and no one played it better than Fury. Phil wasn't sure he could offer the kid anything, but at least he was a better option than being trapped in medical. Coulson nodded. "Alright sir, I'll make sure he doesn't cause any trouble. Just let me know when someone will be coming for him." He tried to hide the small flash of trepidation that flashed across his face.

Fury smiled. "Of course Phil."

The agent nodded and headed for the door, Nick watched him go with a knowing smirk plastered across his face. He'd make the call in a day or two, it might give those two a chance to bond. The Director was aware that the kid didn't trust easily and knew that Phil was one of the most patient men he had ever met. If the kid was put in a foster home, he knew for certain that they wouldn't spend the time needed to get to the bottom of the boy's problems. He would be left to deal with it himself, which wouldn't do anyone any good. Fury knew that Phil had a way of getting under your skin.

It was exactly what the boy needed, someone who was willing to try, and not give up on him.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: WOW! A huge thanks to all that have added to your favourites and those who reviewed - **Hope06, lackam, Lollypops101, lovinthor, BookFreak, Anise** **Nadiah, sammygirl1963** and** kimbee.**

Your kind words have made my night. I think this is the most reviews I've had after only three chapters :):):):):) keep them coming please!

On with the next chapter!

* * *

Phil ran a hand through his short hair and groaned internally. What the hell was Fury thinking? He wasn't qualified to look after a kid, especially one with the amount of issues Clint Barton had. He was an agent, an expert at taking down bad guys and bringing justice to those who deserved it.

Not a babysitter.

"Can I help you sir?" The young sales assistant looked at Phil in amusement. The man had stood staring at the same rack of kids clothing for the past ten minutes.

"Um, yeah. Thanks." Phil felt a little embarrassed as a few of the staff were watching him with smiles on their faces. "My….nephew is staying with me and his mother didn't pack him enough clothes. I'm not really sure what sort of things he would like."

The young woman nodded and glanced around, searching for something. "Is he here?"

Phil shook his head, "No, he's staying with a friend."

Katie, he noticed from her name tag, motioned for him to follow her. "How old is he?"

"He's almost twelve, but he is quite small for his age." The agent explained.

He was shown to a large selection of boys clothing, aged between six and thirteen. Katie started pulling things out and handed them to Phil. The experienced agent wasn't sure if Clint would need all this stuff, but figured the kid probably never had anything new or entirely his before and deserved a moment of being spoiled a little.

"You can have a look through those, they're our best sellers at the moment," she informed him and glanced to the other side of the shop. "Will he need running shoes and things like that?"

Coulson was feeling a little overwhelmed, he was sure the kid would need everything, so he settled for nodding at Katie. "Everything."

The young brunette beamed and scooted off to grab more things leaving Phil holding a pile of clothes. He headed to the checkout and placed the clothes on the counter. There were lots of t-shirts, jeans and shorts. Katie walked over with boxers, socks and a hoodie.

"Do you know what size shoe he is?"

Phil frowned, he didn't. But he did have a very good memory, and could roughly guess the size for the moment and get the kid's feet measured later. Following the young woman to the shoe selection, the agent's eyes widened at the different styles and colours. How did kids choose, seriously? Phil eyed a pair of converse, purple and checked the size. "Those should do."

Katie lifted them from the shelf and returned to the tills. She eyed the pile of clothes and turned to Phil. "Are you taking everything?"

"Yes." He handed the credit card over and smiled. "Thank you Katie, you've been a big help."

The brunette grinned. "You're welcome. I hope your nephew likes his new clothes."

Phil nodded and grabbed both large bags. "I'm sure he will."

Once outside the agent felt his chest tighten, he was seriously out of his comfort zone. He and Fury would be having words later. Making his way back to the dark sedan, Phil popped his sunglasses on and placed the bags in the back seat. Time to head back and get this over with.

* * *

Clint lay staring up at the ceiling, _again_. This place was in serious need of a makeover, throw in a little colour; give him something different to look at. He'd spotted the agent sitting outside and knew he was there to keep an eye on him. Barton sighed and glanced down at the tape holding his I.V in place. He started picking at it and thought about what the man, Phil, had told him. This was some government agency, SHIELD he'd called it. Clint had no idea what that meant, would they protect him? Or would they send him away?

All he knew was that if the opportunity came around to escape, he'd take it. He stiffened when he noticed someone walking towards the room, the blinds covering the large window in front of him were slanted obscuring his view, he could just make out a dark figure and felt himself relax ever so slightly when he realised it was Coulson. Clint wasn't going to read into that too much.

Phil walked through the door, closing it behind him. Barton noticed the large bags he was carrying and arched an eyebrow. The agent set the bags down and collapsed in the chair. He felt physically drained, was that even possible when he'd done nothing but shop? Phil had no idea how women enjoyed this sort of thing.

He turned to the young patient and gave him a tired smile. "How are you feeling Clint?"

The youngster shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't entirely sure how he was feeling at the moment. Afraid, maybe? He'd never admit it though, didn't want to give them anything they could use against him.

"I have a proposition for you, kid and it's entirely up to you. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to, alright?" Phil sat stiffly next to the bed and watched as Clint frowned at him. Coulson kept his expression blank, he didn't want to show the kid how much this was affecting him. He secretly hoped the boy might decide he'd rather stay in the infirmary, but at the same time, he knew that was unlikely.

"You're welcome to stay at my house; I have more than enough room and plenty of food."

Clint stared at the man before him with confusion written clearly across his face. He didn't know why the agent was trying to help him, maybe it was some sort of trick; a way to make him feel safe before they pulled the rug out from under him.

"Why?" The softly spoken word hit Phil like a ton of bricks, the kid sounded so confused and broken that it physically hurt the agent to hear.

"Why what, Clint?"

"Why are you helping me? Why do you even care? I'm a ghost to anyone and everyone." Clint's jaw clenched painfully as he tried desperately not to let the tears spill over, refusing to make eye contact with Coulson. He picked at the blanket that was draped over him, waiting for the man to speak. Or perhaps shout at him for being disrespectful.

Phil really wanted to hit whoever had made this kid feel like he wasn't worth anyone's time. He was just a boy; he should be out playing with friends and causing mayhem as most children did, not wondering why someone would actually offer to help him by putting a roof over his head.

Coulson leaned forward, looking the boy square in the eye. "I don't know what's happened to you or who made you think you weren't worth the effort, Clint, but I'm offering you the chance to get out of here, even if it's only for a few days until something is sorted for you. I do care kid, and if you'd rather stay in medical, that's okay too."

Clint stared wide eyed at the agent. He wasn't sure what to make of this, on one hand he could get out of here which was a plus, or he could get left here, in medical _with the doctors_. The choice was an easy one, but he couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. Phil Coulson did seem like a nice guy, but Clint had been fooled before. This could simply be a trap. The man might be taking him away from SHIELD so he could exact his own revenge on him for breaking into his home. The rational part of his head that might have argued why Phil would have brought him here in the first place, was ignored. This could be a perfect opportunity to get away.

So he settled for nodding at the agent. "Okay."

Once Clint had been freed from the infirmary, Phil took him down to the garage and placed the bags in the trunk. The agent watched the kid play with the zipper on his new hooded jacket and frowned. He thought the kid might be a little happier to get out of medical but he knew there were probably other thoughts running through the young boys head. Maybe he thought Phil was going to punish him or something, he shook his head; he could never do that.

"Ready to go kid?" he asked softly.

Clint dropped the zipper and nodded, sliding into the back seat and pulling the belt on. It had been a long time since he'd been in a car but after losing his parents in a traffic accident he was a little safety conscious.

The trip was made in silence, Phil trying to make small talk but the youngster was stubbornly silent, staring out the window at the passing scenery. Clint almost felt a smile tug his lips as they passed a large park and he spotted the trees. He loved to climb high, always had. He'd never been afraid of heights, he'd realised that after his short time at the circus.

They arrived at the house quicker than Barton expected and he sat frozen in the back seat unwilling to move. If he went inside then it would just be him and Coulson. He'd be left at the older man's mercy, and Clint promised himself long ago that he wouldn't let that happen again. Something about this man oozed trust and he wasn't sure if Coulson was just really good at being deceitful or if he really was that nice.

Phil pulled the bags out and gave him a small smile. "You coming?"

Clint swallowed down the fear and nodded, unhooking his belt and sliding out of the car. A part of him knew he could make a run for it, go back into hiding, but another part of him wanted to try, thinking maybe something good might come of this. No matter how many times he faced disappointment, hope was a hard thing to kill.

He followed Phil inside and felt his stomach drop when the door closed behind him with a loud bang. Forcing himself to calm down even though he felt the walls closing in on him, he took his first step out of the entrance way.

Phil moved into the living room, dropping the bags on the couch, dropping his keys on the side table. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the rigid kid trying very hard to convince himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Coulson let out a deep breath and moved to stand before the boy. Applying his interrogation techniques in an entirely new scenario he knelt down to make himself seem less threatening. "You okay kid?"

Clint felt all his emotions bubbling to the surface. He wasn't okay, not at all. He felt scared, trapped, unsure, unworthy. He'd never had anyone help him before that didn't want something in return and he didn't want to think about what Phil might want from him. He wasn't sure he had anything left in him to give.

Clint blinked to bring the white blob dancing in front of his face into focus. He took the tissue Phil was holding out, offering a small nod and a whispered thanks.

"You're welcome." The agent stood up and gestured around the house. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Barton nodded and followed, might as well get this over with.

Phil gave him the grand tour, ending with the room that would be Clint's for the next few days. It was a nice sized room, single bed, dresser, closet and a small television. Coulson left the boy to get adjusted while he went downstairs to start dinner.

The eleven year old lay curled up on the bed, his back to the wall, eyes glued to the door. He waited, and waited. It was inevitable, Coulson would come up soon and punish him for what he'd done. He deserved it, he had broken into the man's home.

It was over an hour later when Phil made his way upstairs with some food for the kid. He was pretty sure Clint wouldn't be joining him downstairs just yet, but he was a patient man. Pushing open the door he was shocked to find the boy sleeping, the covers gripped tightly in his small fists. Phil put the plate on top of the dresser and crouched next to the bed.

"Clint?" he called softly.

The boy flinched but didn't wake up. He tried again a little louder, "Clint."

The boy's eyes snapped open and he scrambled backwards, his back hitting the wall.

Phil's eyes widened in surprise, he'd never seen that level of fear on a kid's face before. "It's okay kid, just brought you some food." He pointed to the plate of mac 'n' cheese.

Barton took a few calming breaths and nodded before pulling himself into a sitting position. The plate was handed to him and Phil gave him a nod before heading back to the door.

Phil stopped and glanced over his shoulder, the boy was still watching him with cautious eyes but he dug into the food regardless. "Just give me a shout when you've finished."

Clint swallowed the pasta then gulped, eyeing the food in front of him. Maybe this was his last meal. Shaking his head he ate the rest quickly, it was too good to pass up. Making his way out of the room, the youngster stopped at the top of the stairs.

"Phil?" He called out quietly.

The agent appeared at the bottom of the stairs and smiled. "Finished?"

Clint nodded. He edged down a couple of steps and handed the empty dish over to the man. Both were careful to ignore the way the fork betrayed the boy's unsteady hand by rattling on the plate. Once Phil had the plate in hand, Clint fled back to the relative safety of the guest bedroom. Coulson sighed and made his way back into the kitchen. It was going to be a long night.

It was almost midnight when Phil sprung from the sofa and headed upstairs to the kid's room. He stopped outside and peeked his head into the darkened room. He could make out the silhouette of the boy huddled at the bottom of the bed, crying.

The older man sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't know what to do, he knew the kid didn't want to be comforted, it wouldn't be appreciated. Phil knew it was better to just leave him be, for the moment anyway.

He headed back downstairs and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge settling in front of the television. Phil wasn't really one for watching TV shows but when he flicked through the channels and came across something called Supper Nanny, he paused. Maybe she could help him with some of the issues Clint suffered from. It was worth a shot. He watched three episodes back to back before sleep claimed him.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: The feedback from this story has been awesome, thank you so much to all those who have reviewed - **Lollypops101, lovinthor, sammygirl1963**, **Hope06, kimbee, ParisAmy** and** Fyroni**.

* * *

Clint came to with a start, almost bolting from the bed before he realised where he was. Pushing the covers aside, the boy slid off the bed and padded bare foot to the door. He could hear the sound of something sizzling, it smelled really good and his stomach grumbled in answer. Deciding to suck it up and face the day, he pulled on his hoodie. He had to admit he really liked it, it was comfy and soft in a way that reminded him home, well the few good memories of home he had. Taking one last fortifying breath, he made his way slowly downstairs. Creeping silently into the kitchen, he watched as Phil stood at the stove cooking something that smelled delicious. Barton's stomach chose that moment to turn traitor and Phil turned in surprise at the growl. It wasn't just anyone that could sneak up on the high level SHIELD agent.

"Hey, morning. Breakfast is almost ready."

Clint nodded and made his way to the table. Licking his lips as he eyed the various foods spread across the table, he took in toast, pancakes, fruit and orange juice. Phil walked over and placed a plate in front of the boy and grinned at the shocked look he got. He grabbed his own plate of bacon, sausages, scrambled egg and mushrooms and sat across from Clint.

They ate in silence, only the sound of constant chewing disturbed the quiet.

Phil poured them both a glass of orange juice. Clint whispered a thanks and gulped down the fruit drink at a rate that suggested the small child believed it might be taken away from him.

"You'll have to come in with me to work today, I've got some things to take care of. It shouldn't take too long," Coulson explained as he started clearing the table.

The boy nodded absently, _whatever_.

They got dressed after and headed back to SHIELD; Phil heading to his office and Clint trailing behind. The agent spent most of the morning on the phone or filling out paperwork while Clint sat in the comfy leather chair, swinging his legs back and forth, bored. He thought with it being a secret base and all, it would be exciting but instead he was kept away from all the cool stuff and left where the boring stuff was done.

It was almost lunch time when Phil glanced up to see the kid looking painfully bored. He glanced out of his window and saw the sun shining, it was a really nice day. Too nice to have the kid cooped up here all day leaving Phil feeling a little bad. This was normal to him, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't trying to keep himself grounded with everything that was happening, he needed normal just now but that left Clint looking sad. As much as it scared him he realised he should do something with the boy.

"You want to go out? We could go to the park?" Phil offered and was shocked to see what looked like genuine happiness shine in the boy's eyes before it was hidden again.

Clint shrugged, looking down at his hands. He didn't want to see the look of annoyance he was sure would be on Phil's face. The man clearly had important work to do and didn't need a dumb kid interfering and dragging him away from it.

Coulson chuckled and stood from his chair, stretching his back and wincing as it cracked. Clint raised an eyebrow at him.

"Let's go then."

* * *

Phil sat stiffly on the park bench watching the other kids run about chasing each other and climbing on things. Clint stood to the side watching them but kept glancing towards the trees. Other kids made him nervous, especially boys and most of the ones here were boys. He kept glancing over to the stoic agent, the man looking even more nervous than he was. The youngster fought the urge to smirk as a young woman with a stroller made her way towards Phil and sat down beside him. The man forced himself not to panic or move away. It was strange, Phil could handle, spies, missions that affected an entire country and the possibility of death everyday but babies and soccer Moms talking about mom stuff was putting him so far out of his comfort zone it wasn't even funny.

"So which one is yours?" the woman asked and Phil was startled that a group of four woman now surrounded him. He tried not to show how uncomfortable he was and was about to answer when he saw one of the boys shoving Clint. The agent tore off the bench heading to the group of boys in a flash.

"Freak!" a chubby boy with dark hair sneered.

"Loser!" another boy with blonde hair stepped closer to Clint like he was going to shove him.

Phil felt anger bubbling up inside him as he heard the boys calling Clint names. The agent thought his young charge seemed unaffected with the hurtful words but as he got closer he saw the kid's hands clenched into fists, shaking. Without even thinking he grabbed Barton's arm and pulled the boy behind him. "That's enough!" warned Coulson, implementing the glare he reserved for unruly agents.

The boys stepped back, fear clouding their features.

"Come on Clint, I'll take you to that new adventure park that opened up on the other side of town." The youngster nodded and followed the older man towards the car. He heard the grumbling and awe's from the other boys, they were jealous that an outcast like Barton was going to experience one of the most desired kid attractions around.

They were almost at the car when Phil felt a tug on his arm. He turned to the blonde haired boy and was shocked when he spoke instead of whispering like he had before. "Thanks."

The agent's eyes softened. "You're welcome."

Together they got into to the car and Phil drove to a small diner where he was sure Clint would enjoy the food. Everything they served could be eaten with fingers. You were considered odd if you asked for a knife or fork. They ate in silence but Phil was certain the kid looked a little more relaxed, finishing everything that was put in front of him and even belched once he'd finished his milkshake.

Coulson chuckled at the boy's face as he turned scarlet. He paid the bill and followed behind the kid as they made their way back to the car, to head home.

Phil settled himself for another night on the sofa, shocked that Clint didn't immediately go upstairs when they came back. That was an improvement. The kid had sat on the chair and watched a little television before slipping silently from the living room and heading to his room. The tired agent changed the channel over to Super Nanny and was half way through his second episode when he froze, pausing the TV and listening. There was nothing, no sound, no crying. Phil relaxed, a smile playing on his lips. That was definitely progress.

* * *

Clint woke up the next morning to the intoxicating smell of bacon. He found himself smiling as he pulled the cover around him in a protective cocoon. It had been so long since he'd had a proper bed, and pillows. He suddenly threw the covers off and jumped off the bed frowning, he was getting too attached, this was dangerous. Clint knew as soon as he let his guard down things always went to hell and he'd be the one to get hurt.

He got undressed quickly and pulled on clean boxers and a t-shirt, he'd just fastened the button on his jeans when Phil knocked on the door.

"Breakfast's ready, Clint." Phil waited for an answer and almost jumped in surprise when Clint opened the door, already dressed.

"Okay." The kid followed him downstairs and sat at the table. Phil handed him his plate of pancakes, syrup and bacon. Clint surprised him by pouring them both a glass of apple juice.

Coulson was starting to think maybe this wouldn't be so hard. The rest of the day passed by much the same as the day before, except Phil got Clint one of those high tech games consoles to play with, a Nintendo DS, while he continued with his paperwork.

They headed to the adventure park Phil mentioned the day before, after leaving the base. The kid was hesitant at first but the agent talked him into climbing the wall. Clint wasn't bothered by the height so much but the prospect of the attendant having to strap a harness on him. Phil understood and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and giving him a comforting squeeze, it was the first time Clint didn't flinch at the contact. The male attendant saw the look pass between the two and asked Phil to tighten the harness till the boy felt comfortable. Phil gave him a nod of thanks.

Then Coulson and the attendant stood back and watched as the youngster scaled the wall like a pro. Some of the other kids even stopped to watch in slack jawed awe as Clint made the climb three times, and got quicker each time. When he finally came down he gave Phil an almost shy smile and shrugged.

They decided to go back to the diner for lunch. Barton still hadn't really said much but Phil was getting the feeling that he was building up to it. Maybe Fury was right, just by being patient and not forcing the kid to talk, he might start to open up to him.

* * *

The next morning just after breakfast, Clint had gone upstairs for a quick shower before they had to leave, while Phil put the dishes back in their cupboards. His phone rang.

"Coulson," he answered.

"Phil, we have a placement for Clint. It's in a group home a few miles away. Are you alright to take him there tomorrow?" Fury waited for an answer, and after a few seconds of silence he asked again. "Phil?"

"Uh, yeah, that should be fine." The agent pinched the bridge of his nose as Fury gave him the address. "I'll let him know."

"Okay, Phil." The Director leaned back in his executive chair with a pleased grin, he knew he'd made the right call, he'd just have to wait for his agent to realise it too.

The trip to the base was made in silence, but Clint was getting used to it. It wasn't uncomfortable, just seemed to be Phil's way. He was glad because he was the same. Barton started to think that maybe Coulson wasn't so bad after all, the agent seemed to be a little awkward, just like he was; the two of them shared a few commonalities. He started to think about sharing something with Phil, a way of saying thanks to the older man for not being like all the others.

The day all but flew by and they were heading to the diner that had become their place. Phil was a little sad that it was about to end, but he knew this would be better for Clint in the long run. He needed people who could be there for him, not someone that would be called away to run a mission for sometimes weeks on end. They were shown to their seats and handed a menu. Phil was so engrossed in reading the list of different foods that he almost jumped when Clint reached over and tapped his hand. The kid gave him an apologetic grin and leaned back in his chair. Coulson frowned and lowered the menu.

The eleven year old smiled at him then, and Phil couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

"I wanted to say thank you, Phil. For everything you've done for me over the past few days." Clint sighed and leaned his elbows on the table. "I was waiting for something to go wrong, it usually does. But really, I was waiting for you to turn on me, to punish me for stealing from your home."

Phil shook his head and started to speak but Clint cut him off. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, Phil. I shouldn't have stolen from you and I shouldn't have broken into your home."

"You don't have to apologise Clint, you were just trying to survive, and I get that." The agent was still wrapping his head around the fact the kid just said more to him in the past few minutes than he had in the last three days.

There was something that Phil wanted to ask the boy and he was hoping with him being more open that he'd tell him, but he wasn't holding his breath. "How did you get so good at climbing Clint?"

Barton grinned. "I ran away from the orphanage and joined the circus." He laughed at the shocked expression on Phil's face. "I was there for a little over a year and I learned to do all sorts of things, acrobatics, walking the tightrope, and archery. That was my favourite, I could hit the target every time, but I love being up high. It makes me feel safe, somewhere I can look down on everyone and know they can't get me."

Phil had a feeling there was more to that statement, and he was feeling more than guilty that he would have to tell the boy he wouldn't be staying with him much longer.

"What's going to hap…?" Clint started but was cut off with Phil blurting out, "You've got a placement."

The kid stared at him for a second before the meaning of his words sank in. He shut down, his little heart sinking into a pit of despair and the urge to kick himself for allowing himself to get his hopes up when he should have known better bloomed within. Had he not just told Phil that something always goes wrong?

Phil tried, he really tried to get the boy to see this was the best option. There would be other kids there and Clint wouldn't have to sit around in his boring office anymore. The blonde nodded while pushing his food around on his plate. He would never admit it out loud but he was starting to enjoy his time in Phil's office, it smelled like polish and something distinctly Phil. It also felt like a safe haven, a sanctuary. Clint always thought when he found a safe place to stay the night while on the streets that it was a sanctuary, he realised now that he didn't have a clue.

Once again that feeling of safety was being taken from him

Phil knew he wasn't going to get anything else from the boy and asked for the bill. The waitress came to clear away Clint's untouched food without a word. Coulson slid out of the chair and waited for Clint who followed him out to the car without a word or so much as a glance.

The older man wanted to bang his head off the steering wheel. Why did this have to be so hard?

That night Phil found himself in front of the big screen, watching his new favourite show, while forcing himself not to run up those stairs and wrap the boy in a hug. It was better this way, he just had to keep telling himself that.

Clint cried, letting all the pain and fear he felt building up inside him out in heart wrenching sobs. He punched his fist into the pillow in anger. Why did he always get the short end of the stick? Did he not deserve to have happiness? Maybe he didn't, maybe he was considered so bad, that nothing good would ever come to him.

He cried himself into an exhausted sleep, believing that no one would ever love him.

* * *

*hides behind computer* Please don't throw things at me...pretty please!

I know I'm evil, but keep reading...it get's better for poor Clint, promise!


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: The last chapter was the most reviews I've gotten for a single chapter...*throws cookies to you all*

Thank you all for the kind words, and restraining yourselves from throwing things at me ;)

A shout out to all that reviewed - **ZhaLenn, LostHawk, lovinthor, kimbee, Lollypops101, sammygirl1963, ParisAmy, Fyroni, Hope06, Moon Spirt, Anise Nadiah**. You are ALL awesome!

And on to the next chapter!

* * *

Phil knocked on the door the next morning and poked his head inside when there was no answer. He didn't expect to find Clint already up, dressed and packing his things into a bag. The agent swallowed the lump in his throat at the sight. Barton didn't even look up at him.

"I made some breakfast, kid."

"Not hungry," Clint answered.

Phil sighed. "Look kid, its better this way. They're more child friendly and can give you what you need. I can't do that."

The boy shrugged trying to look indifferent but Phil saw his eyes glistening with unshed tears. _Damn this was hard_.

Clint gripped his bag, walked past the agent and headed downstairs. Phil followed grabbing his keys. He kept saying _it's for the best_, over and over again in his head. Maybe if he said it a thousand times he might just start to believe it.

Phil drove to the address Fury gave him, glancing in his rear view mirror every now and then to see how the kid was doing. Clint sat with his head against the window and watched as everything passed by in a blur, already deciding that he would run away from this place too. He'd just been hoping that he wouldn't have to do that anymore. Phil was a decent guy and he could tell he wasn't used to being around kids, but Clint had felt comfortable with the man, and for Clint to admit that was scary enough. He didn't want to go back to scrounging for food, he wanted to feel safe and not have to worry anymore. Why couldn't it be that easy?

Phil attempted to start a conversation a few times but with no success. When they pulled up outside the building Clint was already pulling his seat belt off and opening the door. The agent followed after him, noticing the defeated set to the boy's shoulders. It was like he'd given up.

Coulson stopped the kid before they reached the door and pulled Barton around to face him. "I'm sorry, Clint. I _really_ am." He hoped the boy could tell he was being honest, but Clint just gave him a sad smile and nodded. Together they walked through the door.

A clearly frazzled, middle aged woman with frizzy hair and a tired smile greeted them as they walk in.

"Hi, you must be Phil." She shook his hand then glanced down at Clint. "And you must be Clinton Barton."

The boy frowned at the use of his full name; he didn't like it.

"My name is Marion, Marion Walsh. Come on I will introduce you to everyone else, I think you're going to love it here Clinton."

Clint wanted to growl every time she said his name, and turned to Phil when he started speaking. "You want me to stick around for a bit?"

Barton wished he really meant it and wasn't just trying to be nice. Not wanting take up the man's precious time, he shook his head and followed the lady further into the home.

Phil watched as the kid disappeared from view and wanted to kick himself. He and Fury were definitely going to have words, because somehow the director knew what this was going to do to him, he was certain of it.

The agent drove back to SHIELD as quickly as he could. He needed to be back in control, back to where he knew how things worked and not think of how much he was going to miss that kid. He'd started to enjoy having his little shadow follow him around. Clint wasn't like other kids who were constantly talking and made Phil feel nervous. They could sit in complete silence for hours and neither of them bothered. It was nice. But Phil knew the kid deserved to go to a nice home, with people who would love him. He didn't need the worry of a father that could get called away on a deadly mission and might not come back.

It's for the best.

Phil sat at his desk and continued his paperwork, finding himself glancing over to the empty chair every few minutes. _Shit_.

* * *

Clint was shown to his new room that he would be sharing with three other boys. Marion didn't even bother sticking around when her phone started ringing, simply pointing to the room and walking back the way they just came from, talking a little too loudly into her cell. Two boys were already in the room eyeing Clint carefully before telling him the rules. Anything he had belonged to them now and the top bunks were theirs. Barton shrugged, he didn't care, he wouldn't be here for long anyway.

The boys went through his bag pulling things out. Clint wasn't sure why but he snapped, maybe it was because Phil bought him the clothes, but he pushed one of the boys back, making him fall to the floor. The other boy stood and shoved Clint backward, he stumbled landing on his butt. Both boys were suddenly on top of him. Barton kicked and screamed at them to get off. The boy he shoved landed a punch to his face and Clint started crying. Both boys laughed, calling him a cry baby before running out of the room with some of his new clothes.

Clint grabbed the bag off the floor before climbing onto the bottom bunk, curling into a ball. Hot tears streamed down his face despite his internal promise to keep his pain to himself; he was a survivor, he would endure this too. It had only been an hour since Phil left and already he missed him. He really hated this place.

* * *

The next day Phil walked into the base and noticed the other agents were staying clear of him, not even making eye contact. He walked through the base to the Director's office and knocked twice.

"Enter."

Phil walked in and closed the door behind him. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Nick looked up from his computer motioning for Phil to sit down. "How are you Phil? You must be happy you aren't running around after a kid anymore."

Coulson frowned. "It wasn't so bad, the kid was quiet most of the time. I'm not much of a talker either."

Fury smirked. "Well I told you, you'd be the best man for the job."

Phil wanted to smack that smirk off his boss' face. "Have you heard anything, sir?"

"About the kid?"

The agent nodded.

Fury shook his head. "No, but I left her my number just in case, Phil."

"Alright, well…..let me know if you hear anything."

Nick smiled knowingly. "Will do, Phil."

Coulson walked back to his office, a scowl plastered on his face. Fury was an ass, he knew exactly what he was doing.

* * *

Clint was dragged back inside the home, he struggled against the vice like grip on his arm but Marion wouldn't budge. She glared at him and all but threw him into his room.

"You are grounded, Clinton. How many times do I have to tell you, you are not allowed to climb that tree? It's far too dangerous."

The blonde rolled his eyes. He could climb whatever he wanted and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Climbing up there was a way to keep Greg, Scott and Ryan from using him as a punching bag. He'd even told Marion, but she just laughed and told him boys will be boys. The woman was utterly useless.

Clint crawled on to his bed and put his back against the wall. Rubbing his arm where she had held him and could practically feel the bruises forming.

He wished Phil was here, but knew the man had probably already forgotten about him. Why would he be any different from everybody else, Clint already knew the answer, he just tried very hard to forget.

* * *

Even with a few days to adjust, Phil didn't feel any better about leaving Clint. On more than a few occasions he'd stopped himself from going over there, just to see how he was doing, but that would just make things more complicated.

He sighed and stared down at the file in front of him. The words were all jumbling together now and he huffed in annoyance slamming the file closed. He'd look it over later. Just as he pushed his chair back and stood, the door to his office flew open and a blur of black leather marched in.

Phil took one look at his boss' face and felt himself go weak at the knees. "What's wrong?"

Fury looked pissed and concerned all at once. "It's Clint, he's in the hospital."

"WHAT?!" Phil shouted grabbing his things and heading for the door.

Nick followed him, relaying all the information he had before heading back to his own office to make a few calls regarding Phil's options in regards to Barton. Fury was damn sure that Clint wouldn't be going back there, he just wished it was under different circumstances.

* * *

It took Coulson less than ten minutes to get there. Storming into the hospital he spotted Marion right away. She had her cell to her ear and was talking about one of the kids ruining her plans for tonight and something in Coulson snapped. Phil was tempted to forget everything his mother ever told him about not hitting a woman in that moment.

"Miss Walsh?" he called, watching as she fumbled to end the call and turned to the very pissed off agent.

"Mr Coulson, what are you doing here?" she asked somewhat baffled by his presence.

"Director Fury told me, what happened?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "He was climbing that damned tree again. I told him not to, that he would get hurt but he ignored me. Did it again and fell didn't he? Cracked his head on the pavement. Stupid boy; that will teach him a lesson."

Coulson had never felt so angry in his whole life, and really wanted to strangle the life from this woman. How dare she make this out as Clint's fault? "Why was no one watching him?" he almost shouted.

Marion's eyes widened at his raised voice. "I can't spend my time watching every one of those children, Agent Coulson."

"That's exactly what you're supposed to do Miss Walsh, or is the time spent on your phone much more important than these young children's wellbeing?" Phil spat turning on his heel and spoke to one of the doctors.

Marion appeared behind him. "That boy is under my charge, Agent Coulson, the doctor can't tell you anything without me present." she told him smugly.

The doctor glanced between the two and gave Phil an apologetic look. She was right. The agent growled and walked away from the two of them, pulling his phone out and hitting speed dial. He'd get that sorted out straight away.

* * *

It was over an hour later when the doctor walked out and pulled Phil aside. Marion glared at him from down the corridor, she was still fighting to get around Fury's influence; she had no chance.

"Clint is suffering from a concussion, Agent Coulson, he has some bruises but nothing broken. He was very lucky, I still want to keep him overnight for observation."

Phil nodded in understanding and glanced through the window to Clint's room. "Can I see him?"

The doctor had been around enough worried parents to know when someone was genuine in their concern for a friend or loved one and could see that same look in the agent's eyes. The woman, Marion hadn't cared less what happened to the boy, only how long she'd have to be here for. So the decision was an easy one.

"Of course, just give me a few minutes to do some final checks and then you can see him."

Phil folded his arms across his chest and watched the doctor head back into the room. He wanted nothing more than to walk in there and tell Clint how sorry he was, he shouldn't have left him, should have trusted his instincts and kept him close by. Coulson had always been a believer in the old saying, 'if you want something done right, do it yourself.'

Phil wasn't sure if he could give this kid the home he deserved, but he knew damn well that he'd give the boy his full attention. Even at SHIELD, Phil always kept an eye on the boy and if he was needed to go on a mission then he'd just have to sort something out for Clint. If felt right, in his heart, he should have done this from the beginning.

The doctor walked out and gave Phil a nod, he was free to go into the room now. He walked in and closed the door quietly, taking a seat next to the bed.

Clint appeared to be sleeping and the exhausted agent settled himself in the uncomfortable plastic chair, he wasn't going anywhere.

It wasn't long before hints of blue were visible through half lidded eyes. Phil immediately sat forward.

"Hey kid, we really have to stop meeting like this." he said softly.

Blue eyes focussed on him. "Phil?"

The agent took Clint's left hand in his own and gave a comforting squeeze. "Yeah, I'm here kid."

Barton swallowed and turned away, when he looked back there were tears shining in his eyes. "Please don't make me go back," he pleaded.

Phil shook his head. "You're not going back there kid, you're going to stay with me." He paused. "If you want to."

Clint watched the agent with a frown. He didn't understand why this man was still trying to help him. He thought Phil seemed decent enough, he wasn't one of those guys that wanted things in return. He shuddered at the thought of the last guy that offered to help. Clint had the sudden urge to throw up and Phil must have noticed the change because he was quickly moving to grab the trash can and placed it next to the kid, then rubbed his hand up and down Clint's back as he retched painfully.

When he was finished Phil placed a hand on the youngster's forehead and Clint found himself leaning into the touch, he opened his eyes and found the older man staring at him in concern.

"You alright?" he asked.

Clint nodded and wiped the stubborn tears away. "Thanks." The agent nodded back and took the trash can outside, pointing to one of the nurses and asking them to clean it. The nurse did so without complaint and hurried away.

Coulson watched as the boy looked ready to fall asleep. He pulled the covers up higher and tucked him in. Clint stared at him through half lidded eyes in confusion, he really didn't understand why this guy, _Phil Coulson_ cared so much. No one else did. He was still thinking it over in his head when he felt the man squeeze his shoulder.

"Get some rest Clint, I'll be back soon."

The young boy nodded and closed his eyes, maybe he'd just rest for a little; the bed was really comfy. His last thought before drifting off was imagining what it would be like to live with Phil, forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Authors Note: I Love You All! :):):)

Thanks to all that reviewed, **lovinthor, Hope06, Hawaiichick, kimbee, sammygirl1963, Bookdancer, Lollypops101, Anise Nadiah, ZhaLenn** and **Guest**. I love reading what you have to say ;)

Anyway, on to the next!

* * *

Coulson glared at each agent that walked past him giving him strange looks just because he wasn't wearing a suit. Did they honestly think he lived in the damn thing, _more than likely_.

All he did was go to his desk and make sure he hadn't been given piles of paperwork to do upon his return, he really didn't want to be overloaded with more work when he'd just got rid of the last lot. Fury might have given him some time off to tend to Barton and make sure the boy got adjusted but that didn't mean SHIELD stopped operating because one Phil Coulson wasn't going to be on call for the moment, though, some people would probably argue that point.

Clint had been brought back to the SHIELD infirmary after the doctor at the hospital had cleared the boy to leave. Phil trusted Sam to check the kid over before he took him home. He stopped outside the room Clint was occupying, frowning in confusion. If Coulson hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he probably wouldn't have believed it but there was the director sitting next to the bed, talking to the boy. Fury glanced at the window and nodded to Phil before standing, reaching out to pat the kid's arm before walking out and closing the door behind him.

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "Sir?"

The director glared at him and for a moment Phil thought he was going to get smacked on the head. "How many times, Phil?"

The younger agent smirked. "Sorry…..Nick." He still didn't feel right calling the man by his first name, but if it was what he wanted, so be it.

"I take it you asked him if he wanted to stay with you."

"I did. Why?" Phil asked.

"He was asking me about you." Fury told him with a smirk. "I told him you are one of my best agents and would make sure nothing happened to him, whether he decides to stay with you or not."

"Thanks, Nick."

The director gave Phil a pat on the shoulder as he walked past him to return to his office. Fury couldn't help feel a little responsible for what had happened. He knew he was just trying to get Phil to open up a bit. But using a young boy, who ended up getting hurt in the process, wasn't what he'd had in mind. He'd decided to come down himself and meet the kid. There was something decidedly intense about the youngsters gaze. Nick knew how to make people talk with just a look and it seemed Clint did too. Smiling to himself he realised, Phil would have his hands full with that one.

Phil walked back into the kid's room, the boy smiled when he saw him and sat up a little straighter. "Hi, Phil." He greeted and the agent was pleased to see the kid looking a little livelier, there was more colour in his cheeks and he was smiling. _Always a good sign_.

"How are you feeling Clint?" the older man asked as he took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

"Still a little sore, but don't feel as woozy now. I don't like the stuff they give me in hospitals without asking or telling me what's in it."

Phil nodded, "I understand, and I have told Sam that from now on he will tell you what he's doing before going ahead with any treatment. Okay?"

Clint gave him a small nod. "Thanks. How long do I need to stay here for?"

Phil couldn't help but grin as he watched the kid. He could tell he was itching to get out of the bed. "Sam says you should be able to leave today after he assesses you." Coulson leaned back in the plastic chair. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Clint played with the tape holding his I.V line in place stopping when Phil placed his hand over his. "Miss Walsh showed me to my new room and left me there with two boys, Greg and Scott. They took some of my new stuff and shoved me around a little." Phil reached over and squeezed Clint's hand, telling him everything was okay now with just a touch.

"They kept calling me names and pushing me around. I tried to fight back Phil, I did. But I've never really fought before, I always run away. Like a coward." Clint sniffled and used his other hand to wipe away the tears.

Phil shook his head. "You are not a coward Clint. You're one of the bravest kids I've ever met. You've survived on your own for so long without anyone to help. That's not cowardice, that's courage."

Barton stared at Phil in shock. No one had ever said anything like that to him. The agent gave him a sad smile. "When did this happen, Clint?"

The kid shrugged. "From the moment you dropped me off."

Phil looked apologetic and ran a hand through his short hair before speaking. "I'm so sorry, Clint. I shouldn't have left you there in the first place. It never felt like the right thing to do." Phil was shocked to feel the kid squeeze his hand in comfort. "I'm not used to being around kids. My sister's kids are nothing like you and make me more than a little nervous; always talking and wanting to play and I'm just not like that. You on the other hand, are more like me; quiet, a bit of a loner and not really comfortable with people touching you."

Phil looked up at the boy who was staring at him with those intense blue eyes. "I kind of missed having you around."

Clint looked away, a flush creeping up on his cheeks. "I kinda missed you too," he mumbled quietly.

Phil looked pleased. "So why did you climb up the tree? Was it to get away from those boys?"

Barton nodded. "Yeah. She banned me from it, told me it was forbidden. But I love climbing, being able to look down on everything and not worry about anyone getting to me."

"Who was getting to you Clint?"

The youngster stiffened, then stared at Phil's concerned face before relaxing a little. "Anyone trying to hurt me."

Coulson nodded, staying silent. He hated that the boy felt that's what he had to do to feel safe.

"How did you fall? You're really good at climbing from what I've seen."

Clint stared down at the hand still holding his and felt, _safe_. "I got away from Greg, Scott and Ryan, but they followed me. They couldn't climb the tree, so they threw rocks to try and get me down. One of them hit my hand while I was gripping a branch and I lost my balance, fell."

Phil pushed the anger at what the boys had done back down. This was still Marion Walsh' fault for not keeping an eye on Clint. "You don't have to worry about that any more Clint. Director Fury has made it possible for you to come back and stay with me while Child Services investigates what happened. I'm not sure how long that will be though."

The agent didn't mention that he was going to fight for permanent custody of the youngster. He didn't want to get his or the kid's hopes up if CCP couldn't grant his request. But he did know that Fury would help him out as much as he could.

Clint nodded, trying not to feel too excited. He knew it wasn't permanent but the prospect of staying with Phil for a little longer was better than anything he'd had before. "I would like to stay at your house if it's okay, if it isn't and you've changed your mind that's fine too. I would understand." The boy's blue eyes were filled with a mixture of hope and fear. Phil could tell he was afraid of hoping for good things to happen, just to get it snatched away from him again.

"I won't change my mind Clint and I'd be happy if you stayed. I've got plenty of room anyway." Phil told him truthfully.

They both sat back, thinking things over when the agent decided to break the silence.

"How did you end up at my house, Clint?" He'd been wondering about that from the beginning, how it seemed destined for them to find each other.

"Just kept walking. The abandoned building I was staying in got destroyed by a fire, so I was looking for someplace safe for the night. Didn't even realise how far I'd walked until I saw the nice neighbourhood. Noticed that there wasn't a car outside your house and all the lights were off. I was only going to spend the night and then take off in the morning but I was really hungry and when I spotted the dog flap, I knew that I could fit through it, raid your fridge and get out before anyone noticed."

The older man smiled sadly at the thought of his dog and Clint must have noticed because he placed his hand hesitantly over Phil's. "You okay?"

Coulson huffed a laugh. After everything this kid had gone through, he was asking if Phil was alright. "I'm fine Clint. I had to put my dog down just before I was sent on my last mission. He got hit by a car and there was nothing they could do."

"I'm sorry," came the quiet reply.

"Not your fault. So are you ready to see about getting out of here?" Phil changed the subject and was glad the kid seemed to understand.

Clint nodded.

"I'll go get Sam."

The kid nodded again.

Phil checked in with Sam to make sure it was alright to take Clint home. The agent knew what to look out for when dealing with concussions, having dealt with enough agent's being concussed but he took in everything the medic said. The sudden weight of being responsible for such a young and fragile soul was immense and he didn't want to take any chances when it came to Clint's well-being. He listened intently to every word that was said, no matter how familiar it sounded, he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Take care of him, Phil." Sam smiled as he turned away to continue his rounds.

"I will," Phil promised, with more conviction than he ever had for anything before.

* * *

Coulson pulled up the driveway and got out, rushing round to the other side of the car to help Clint out. He knew the kid could walk by himself but Clint was still stiff and sore, bruises covering his arms and back.

"We're here Clint." Phil nudged the boy gently, waking him from the nap he had drifted off to during the ride home.

Blue eyes blinked at him. "Okay."

They made their way up the front steps slowly, Phil pulling his key out before reaching the door. The youngster shuffled after the agent, wincing as even the slightest movement caused him pain. Phil noticed the look and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, giving him a measure of comfort with the simple act. Clint was still getting use to the fact that someone cared about him, it felt nice.

Stepping inside, Clint couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. He was back where he felt safe, with Phil standing beside him. The older man guided him to the sofa.

"You can pick a DVD. There's a few there that my nieces and nephews like to watch."

Clint nodded and sank back into the soft cushions. Phil grabbed the small collection of films and sat them next to the boy, before heading for the kitchen.

Barton looked through the collection and noticed one with an Eagle on the front cover. It wasn't a Hawk but you can't have everything.

Phil strode back with two tubs of ice cream, two spoons and chocolate sauce.

Clint beamed and took one of the tubs, digging into it while Phil popped the film into the player.

"The Rescuers Down Under, huh?" Phil asked as he took his seat on the couch.

The youngster simply nodded, making to grab the chocolate sauce on the table but Phil pushed him back gently and picked it up himself. The agent popped open the lid and was about to pour the chocolate on his own ice-cream when he caught the shocked look on the boy's face.

"I'm only kidding. Here." He handed Clint the bottle and settled back against the cushions.

Phil couldn't remember hearing the boy laugh before, and decided he needed to hear it more often. They watched another two Disney films before the boy's eyes were drooping closed.

Coulson put what was left of the ice-cream back in the freezer and helped Clint up to his room. Tucking the boy into his bed, Phil brushed his fingers lightly through the kid's hair. Pleased when Clint smiled and leaned into the touch before drifting off.

"Goodnight Clint."

The sound of soft snoring was his answer.

Phil chuckled and walked downstairs, grabbing himself a light beer and picking up the remote. He flicked through the various channels he never seemed to watch and found what he was looking for.

Super Nanny.

The agent laughed at some of the things the kids on the show tried to get away with and was happy to realise Clint was nothing like those spoilt brats. But if he ever turned into one, Phil was certain he'd know how to take care of it, though it did hold potential for dealing with certain agents now.

He raised his bottle to the screen. "Thanks Jo."


	8. Chapter 8

Authors Note: Thank you all so much for the nice words! To all that reviewed - **Bookdancer, ZhaLenn, lovinthor, Lollypops101, kimbee, sammygirl1963, Anise Nadiah**. You're all amazing...and just for that I've posted a bit earlier today and the chapter is a bit longer than the others ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

1 Week Later

Phil lay awake in his double sized bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep was eluding him, the same as it had for the past week. He swung his legs out of bed and scrubbed a hand over his face. The older man had known it would be an adjustment for Clint, but he hadn't realised how bad it was going to be.

The first night Phil had woken up with what sounded like whimpers, _Clint_, he sprinted through to the room the youngster was sleeping in. There was no sign of him and it was only when he heard another whimper that he checked under the bed; the kid was curled into a ball with one of the thin sheets wrapped tightly around him. Phil had pulled the boy out from under the bed surprised to see watery blue eyes staring up at him. Pulling Clint into his lap, he rocked him back and forth as he cried.

The second night Clint remembered being chased, he ran as fast as he could but it was never fast enough. They always caught up to him. He felt hands grabbing him, trying to drag him into the darkness. He bolted awake to find that he'd somehow fallen asleep in the closet with the duvet around him, he'd told Phil it felt familiar being in small spaces.

The third night was the worst. The young boy had woken up screaming and crying for help. Phil had sat with him all night and when the youngster finally calmed enough to speak, he asked the older man to protect him from the monsters. The agent felt his stomach churning at what he was sure was a hidden meaning behind those words. He was certain this boy had been subjected to horrors no child should have to endure. Phil had seen the scars on the boy's back, displaying evidence of past abuse. Clint had told him he always felt safer high above everyone, where no one could get to him. Coulson nodded and hugged the boy tighter.

No one was getting near this kid again without having to go through him first.

The next few nights Clint still had nightmares but seemed to settle a little quicker than the previous nights. He dreamed of people chasing him, hurting him and Phil wished he could do something to protect Barton from his dreams, but sadly it was something Clint had to face alone. Well, with Phil by his side to wake him if it looked like it was going to be a bad one.

"Phil?"

The tired agent looked up to see Clint standing in the doorway, his hair sticking up and he was rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Phil thought he looked adorable.

"You alright?" Coulson asked and patted the spot next to him on the bed.

The young boy hesitated before moving to the bed. "Just couldn't sleep," he replied sitting next to the older man. Clint chewed on his bottom lip and glanced around the room before looking up at Phil. The agent smiled and nodded at the silent question. The kid grinned and climbed to the top of the bed, laying on his side, facing Phil.

"Thanks," came the sleepy response, eyes already struggling to stay open.

"Get some rest kid, you need it." Phil told him and lay back down, pleased when he heard the soft snoring and closed his eyes. Maybe they'd get one good night's rest this week. He could only hope.

* * *

When the older man awoke almost seven hours later, the first thing he was aware of was a warm mass pressed against his back and that he seemed to have moved closer to the edge of the bed, he was almost falling off. Phil sat up slowly and turned to look at the boy who was still fast asleep and grinned. It looked like he'd slept right through for the first time in a week. _Good_.

Coulson slid out of the bed and headed into his bathroom for a quick shower. When he stepped out almost five minutes later, Clint was sitting up in the bed and scrubbing a hand through his already messy hair.

Phil smirked. "Go jump in for a shower, and then maybe we will do something about your hair."

Clint flopped back on the bed. He rolled off with a laugh when the older man threw a pillow toward him and he ducked to avoid impact.

"Go!" Phil ordered with a smirk and threw a towel at the boy's head.

"Fine." Clint giggled and slipped past him to get into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Coulson moved to grab clothes from his closet and drawers.

The agent had noticed that the kid seemed slightly more relaxed when it was just the two of them. The other day when he'd taken Clint back to the base for a check-up, the boy had stuck to his side like glue and barely spoke more than two words to anyone. Only when they had stopped by the director's office to check in, Clint relaxed a little more. He and the director seemed to get along well; Nick even smiled in front of the kid. When Clint had asked Nick if he wore an eye patch because he liked pirates, Phil thought he might die laughing. Fury had chuckled and told him that pirates had nothing on him.

The bathroom door swung open and the kid walked out, a towel around his waist, one around his shoulders and one to scrub his hair.

Phil arched an eyebrow in question. "Three towels? Really?"

Clint looked afraid, his mask slipping for a split second displaying the fear that Phil might hurt him across his young face. His shoulders fell as he backed away, eyes darting around for an escape route before he noticed the humour behind the older man's eyes. "Sorry. They were just really soft and warm."

Coulson nodded and tried not to stare at the bruises and old scars that littered the boy's back.

"We need to go out today. I'm going to speak with a woman I work with about tutoring you, but we'll have to assess what level you're at first."

Clint seemed hesitant at the suggestion of spending time with someone other than Phil, but nodded anyway. If Coulson wanted him to do it he would, if for no other reason than feeling he could trust the man. As scary as that seemed at times. Clint wasn't used to the attention he got from Phil, hadn't had anyone care enough to try and help him in a long time. He was also trying desperately not to get too attached to the older man. It would be less painful when he was taken away again. Another part of him was telling him to enjoy it while it lasted.

"You don't have to be afraid, Clint. You'll be fine." He gave the boy an encouraging smile. "You're a smart kid, I'm sure you'll do great."

Clint shrugged and turned away. Being told almost every day for the past six years that he was stupid and worthless had taken its toll on the eleven, almost twelve year old. He had started to believe what people said a long time ago. Barton didn't want to let Phil down, not when the man had done nothing but help him.

Clint left the towel wrapped round his waist and dropped the other two on the floor before pulling on the fresh t-shirt Phil had left out for him.

Phil walked over and messed up the kid's hair. "Get you a haircut later too."

Once they were both dressed and had something for breakfast, they headed to SHIELD headquarters.

Clint sat silent in the car, looking out the window as everything passed by in a blur of colour. He perked up when they got near the park and he glanced over at Phil. The agent smiled at him.

"We'll see on the way back, okay?"

Clint nodded. If Phil thought he was strange for still wanting to climb trees after his accident, he didn't show it. Barton had fallen from many a tree, and always went back for more. He always felt safe up high, seeing things clearer from up there. His dad had built him a tree house when he was five. He'd sneak up in the middle of the night and would just sit and stare at the stars.

"You okay, Clint?" Phil asked as he pulled into the parking garage at SHIELD. He'd noticed the kid seemed unusually quiet, but he didn't want to force the boy to talk. He knew it would be better for Clint to come to him when he was ready.

"Yeah. Just thinking." Barton left it at that. Phil nodded and opened his door, getting out. Clint followed suit and they made their way to the elevator.

Coulson kept a close eye on Clint as they walked through the winding corridors towards his office. The youngster still stayed close to him and whenever someone passed them by, Barton made sure he had Phil placed between them and himself.

They had almost made it to Phil's office when Clint suddenly froze, making the agent almost walk into the back of him. Coulson was about to ask what was wrong when he heard them. Three agents rounded the corner, arguing with each other about their next assignment. They didn't even notice they had an audience until Phil barked at them. "What are you three doing?"

All three agents immediately stopped their squabbling and stared wide eyed at Fury's right hand man. _Crap_.

Phil was just about to read them the riot act for discussing an ongoing mission in the middle of the corridor when one of the agents pointed towards Clint.

"Is he okay?"

Coulson turned to see the kid pale and shaking, then slide down the wall and pull his knees to his chest. Phil focussed on his young charge, he'd seen this before, in the shed when he'd first found him.

"Clint, look at me." Phil spoke softly.

The boy looked at him with panicked blue eyes as he tried to control his breathing. It was coming out in uneven bursts, his heart pounded in his ears and he watched as Phil's lips moved but he couldn't tell what he was saying. Then he felt a warm, gentle hand rest against his chest, directly over his heart.

Phil ignored the agents behind him, hearing them mutter to each other why a kid was there in the first place. He took Clint's right hand and placed it over his own heart. Breathing in and out and waiting for Clint to copy him and get his breathing back under control.

It took a few minutes before Phil decided it was time to help the boy up. Clint thanked him quietly but refused to make eye contact with the other agents who were still standing there.

Phil turned to them with a growl. "My office in one hour."

They nodded quickly and took off down the corridor away from them. Coulson turned to Clint with a concerned look on his face.

Blue eyes flicked up to his then dropped to stare at the floor. Phil sighed and took Clint's arm, guiding him into his office. Once the door closed the older man crouched down in front of the youngster.

"You want to tell me what that was about?"

The kid wouldn't look at him, but Phil was patient. He waited until those blue orbs locked onto his and gave the boy a warm smile. Hoping to show Clint that he could trust him with whatever was bothering him.

Clint could tell Phil wasn't about to let this go. Whatever _this_ was. It had happened a few times now, a few before he even met the agent.

"I don't like people arguing," he said quietly.

Phil nodded in understanding. "Not many people do Clint."

"Yeah, but this is what usually happens when I'm around people fighting with each other."

The agent frowned. He guessed there was a story behind Clint's panic attacks, but he would leave that for now. "How many times has this happened Clint?"

Barton shrugged. "About seven, eight maybe. I'm not sure."

Coulson hated seeing the defeated look on this young boy's face, wished he could have been there before to stop it. Sadly that was impossible, but he could try and make it better now.

He pulled Clint into a hug, careful of his bruised back and just held him. It took less time than he thought it would for the boy to relax into the embrace and hug Phil back.

They both pulled apart at the same time, Clint giving Phil a small smile. "Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me Clint. Just know that I'm here if you want to talk."

The boy nodded.

"Go make yourself comfy on the couch. Do you want that game you played last time?" Phil asked while searching his desk for the handheld game console.

"Yes, please."

Coulson finally found the Nintendo DS in his bottom drawer and held it out to the kid. He received a grin in return and felt a warm feeling spread through him. Phil was amazed at the feelings this young boy brought out in him with a simple gesture.

Fury was right, he was going to have his hands full.

* * *

The first hour flew by and Clint went to spend some time with Nick while Coulson gave the three agents a serious talking to. Before Phil headed back to the director's office, he went to see Molly Barlow about tutoring Clint. Molly was in her early forties, extremely smart and very patient; exactly what Clint needed. Before embarking on the whirlwind career that was SHIELD, she had devoted her life to the education of children, opting for teaching positions at schools located in troubled neighbourhoods.

He knocked on her door and waited for the polite 'come in' she always greeted with.

Phil walked into the large office, glancing around for any sign of the other agent. He still wasn't sure how Molly had managed to talk Director Fury into giving her one of the biggest offices but somehow she'd managed it. The woman had her ways. He spotted her in the far corner of the room stretching up to reach one of the books on the top shelf of her large mahogany bookcase.

Molly looked over her shoulder and granted him a genuine smile. "Phil. What can I do for you?"

Coulson moved to stand next to her and pulled the book down with ease. Molly Barlow grinned at the agent and headed back to her desk, the book gripped tightly in her hands. Phil followed, taking a seat across from her. She furrowed her brow at him before reaching over to slap his hand which was resting on the table.

Phil frowned. "What was that for?"

"For not telling me about your new situation. You adopted a kid, Phil. A little boy and you didn't even tell me. I had to hear about it from everyone else." The older woman seemed upset at being left out. She'd known Phil for years.

Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry Molly. I've just had a lot going on lately." He knew it was better to be honest with the woman. "I want you to meet him. Actually, I want _you_ to tutor him. Technically I've not adopted him yet, I still have to meet with the Social worker and have them inspect the house. But I'm trying not to get my hopes up just in case. You know?"

The older woman chuckled, "If I know Nick he's doing everything he can to help you, Phil. I've heard he'd got a soft spot for the boy."

Coulson nodded.

Molly frowned, then smiled as Phil handed her a picture from his wallet. It was one of him and Clint after a day at the park. Clint was happy in the picture, a genuine grin spread across his face, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, he's adorable Phil."

"Yeah he is," he added seriously, "but he's also been through a lot and I need to be able to leave him with someone I can trust, he also needs an education. Clint hasn't been taught anything since he was six years old."

Molly nodded, still staring at the picture. "I'll get a package sent here so I can see how much time we'll need to spend together. I'm guessing it will be here at the base though?"

"Yes." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I guess that means you'll do it?"

The ex-teacher grinned at her friend. "Of course I will."

"Thank you Molly."

Phil smiled as he made his way to his boss' office to get Clint. It finally felt like things were looking up.

* * *

They stayed for a few hours before heading back home, Phil noticing the glazed, bored look in the boy's eyes. He had a plan for tonight. They would get a pizza, watch some movies and chill out. The agent wasn't sure the last time Clint celebrated his birthday but he did know from when Fury got him Clint's file that his date of birth was today's date.

Clint was twelve today.

It made Phil feel worse the fact that Clint didn't even seem to want to acknowledge that it was is birthday, did he even remember?

They picked up the pizza on the way home, after spending some time at the park. Phil let Clint pick some new DVD's for them to watch before making their way home.

"You okay kid?" Phil was watching him from the kitchen doorway.

"Yeah. Thanks Phil." Clint sat down on the sofa and watched as the older man walked over and sat next to him. The twelve year old forced himself not to put more distance between them, he knew Phil wasn't like that.

"I got something for you." Phil pulled out a small bag and handed it over. Clint frowned as he looked from the bag back to the agent.

"What is it?" he asked, confused as to why Phil would have got him something.

"Open it."

Barton did as he was told and pulled the item out of the bag, his eyes widened as he held the small Hawk in his hand. It was really small, about an inch in size and was made of silver. His small hands shook as he stared at the gift.

"Why?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Phil smiled, "I saw it and thought you might like it. I know you told me before about the gift your brother got you, the pocket knife with the engraving on it. I didn't want to copy that but I know you like Hawks and I thought you might be able to use this if you have another panic attack."

Clint frowned in confusion. "Thank you. But how will this help?"

The agent grinned and clasped his hand over the boy's. "We have some techniques we use in SHIELD for anxiety, so I was hoping this might help you too." Clint still looked confused but listened as Phil explained. "If you feel yourself panicking, and know it's going to happen, I want you to hold this in your hand and close your eyes." He smiled at Clint and nodded. "Go ahead, try it."

The kid followed his instructions, closing his eyes as he held the Hawk in his grasp. "I want you to forget everything around you and focus on the Hawk. All you have to do is imagine that you are the Hawk, you're soaring through the skies, wings spread out and everything is peaceful. No one can hurt you, you're free."

Phil watched as a smile spread across Clint's face and knew he was there, lost in a moment of tranquillity. When the kid finally opened his eyes he smiled at the older man and then put the gift in his pocket.

"Thank you, I'll take it wherever I go." Clint told him sincerely.

The agent nodded. "You're welcome Clint." He paused before adding, "Happy birthday Clint."

The blonde boy stared wide eyed at Phil before looking away, he already knew his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Barton hadn't celebrated his birthday since he turned six and his parents were still alive. They'd taken him to the carnival where he'd spent the whole day eating junk food, playing games with Barney and choosing which rides he wanted to go on. It was only the kiddie rides but to Clint, he'd felt so grown up. His dad had let him shoot one of the toy bow and arrows at the target to win a prize. He won after his second try and was beaming the whole way back home. That feeling of happiness had disappeared a week later when his parents died in the accident. He never bothered to celebrate since that day, it was too painful. He looked down at his hands, struggling to keep his emotions in check and felt his lips quirk up when Phil's hand was squeezing his.

Clint raised his head and stared into Phil's brown eyes. "Thank you Phil."

The older man smiled and pulled Clint closer so his head was against his shoulder and put his arm around boy. Phil felt like grinning from ear to ear when the boy relaxed against him and didn't try to pull away.

They were definitely making progress.


	9. Chapter 9

Authors Note: A huge thank you to all that reviewed - **ParisAmy, lovinthor, Bookdancer, Hope06, kimbee, Lollypops101** and **ZhaLenn**.

And just because you are all awesome, I'm posting twice...in one day :)

Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Over the first few weeks Phil managed to get Clint settled into a routine similar to what they had done before.

Get up, get dressed, wash his face and brush his teeth, have breakfast, then head to SHIELD. The agent had explained to Clint that he would have to spend some time with Molly. The twelve year old hadn't been overly excited about the prospect of being away from the agent, but he understood. Phil still had other obligations; he was Director Fury's best agent after all.

Phil walked him down to the briefing room Molly had commandeered. She felt it best for Clint to be away from prying eyes and able to focus entirely on what was put in front of him. Fury had authorised her use of the room, his affection for the boy plain for all to see. Not that anyone would question Nick Fury, unless they had a death wish.

Coulson placed a hand on Clint shoulder as they came to a halt outside the small room. "You alright?"

Barton nodded. "Yeah. Will you come by later?" he asked.

"Of course. I'll come to get you for lunch," Phil promised.

The youngster gave him a nod and entered the room.

Agent Molly Barlow was sorting through some of the paperwork, when he walked in and offered a smile as he closed the door behind him. Clint took his seat opposite her, looking at the workbooks in front of him. He was feeling a little overwhelmed with all the different types of school work he was being forced to learn. Clint hated feeling stupid, and he was now realising just how educationally disadvantaged he was from kids his own age. Barton decided the first day he met Molly that he'd give her a chance, only because Phil told him she was a friend of his. If it had been anyone else he would have been difficult.

Clint didn't particularly like people. It took him time to feel he could trust someone enough to let them in. Phil seemed to be an exception, Fury too. His last experience with a woman in charge had ended with a concussion and a trip to the hospital. Guy's usually let their true colours be known quite quickly. Women on the other hand were conniving. They played mind games and made Clint believe they would do what was best for him, when in reality it was only what was best for them.

"Hi Clint, how are you today?" Molly asked. She knew it would take a while to get the boy to trust her, Phil had explained what he knew of Clint's past and that he suspected the kid had been abused. The woman had nodded in understanding, she also knew that Phil had come to her because she was known to have the patience of a saint. Molly was in her early forties with two kids of her own. They were both in their late teens, so she was used to teenagers attitudes. Although she sometimes found her kids were more mature than some of the agents she had to deal with.

Barton shrugged and picked up one of the books. They went over the basics the last couple of days: numeracy, geography, history, writing and reading. He knew he was starting from scratch and had difficulty reading what was on the page in front of him, but when Molly would ask him a question, he found he could usually work out the answer quickly in his head. The agent was surprised by this and had told him he had an excellent memory. The other things might take time, but she was positive he would get through it.

"I'm going to get you to read one of the books today, Clint. You can pick one from the pile." Molly knew the kid would find it hard but they needed to start somewhere.

Clint hesitated before reaching for the books. These were kid's story books, for ages six and over. He felt a flush of embarrassment, hating that he was so stupid and threw the books back on to the table.

"I'm not doing it!" he stated, folding his arms over his chest in an act of utter defiance.

"Clint….." She tried but could tell the kid had clamped up. Molly leaned back in the chair and tried to think of the best way to approach the situation.

"What book would _you_ like to read, Clint?"

The twelve year old wouldn't meet her gaze, deciding instead to stare at a black spot on the table. He knew that he'd be disappointing Phil if he didn't at least try so he mumbled a quiet, "_Robin Hood_."

Molly grinned and fished through the pile of books and pulled out _Robin Hood_. She slid it across the table to him. "Here. Just try Clint."

Blue eyes met her green ones and she forced herself not to look away. Both Phil and Fury had told her about the intense gaze, she'd felt it the first time they met. His blue eyes boring into her, assessing her. He nodded after a moment and opened the book.

Clint smiled as he saw the familiar pictures. _Robin Hood_ had been his favourite story when he was little. His mom read it to him every night before bed, and he would be lulled to sleep by the soft spoken words that fell from her lips.

"You know this one, don't you?" Molly asked after a pause. She felt her own lips quirk as the smile spread across Clint's face. It was the first time she'd seen him look truly happy and it hurt her a little inside knowing he'd been a loved little boy who had suddenly found himself alone in the world.

"Yeah, my mom read it to me every night," he told her, a sad smile crossing his young face.

Molly reached over a gave his hand a slight squeeze, happy that he didn't pull away, just stared at her before nodding and looking down at the book.

Clint started speaking, quietly at first. The agent had been rendered speechless as she realised he wasn't reading the book in front of him but remembering every word from the book he was read to as a young boy, with almost perfect clarity.

Molly decided to record Clint using her phone.

Barton traced his fingers over the pictures of the book as he spoke, his mind going back to that time, the feeling of happiness and never having to worry about his safety because his mom and dad were always there, his brother too. He'd forgotten what that felt like.

Clint almost jumped out of his seat when there was a knock at the door. He spun around to see Phil standing behind him, concern shining in his eyes. It was only then Clint realised he'd been crying; silent tears trailed down his cheeks as the memories of his past came back to him.

Coulson was in front of the boy in two strides, pulling him into a hug. The agent shot a questioning look at Molly who sat dumbfounded by her discovery.

Barton hugged Phil tightly and only pulled back when the older man pulled away.

"You okay?" Phil asked, worry creeping into his features.

Clint wiped the tears away with his sleeve and nodded. "Yeah." He gave Molly a small smile, telling her he was alright.

"Can you wait outside a second, Clint?" Phil asked and turned to face the distraught looking woman.

The youngster nodded and walked into the corridor.

Coulson leaned against the chair that Clint had been occupying and frowned at the older woman. "What happened?"

Molly slid the cell phone across the table. "Take it with you and listen to it Phil. I recorded it, almost every word."

Phil was confused but did as she asked. "Is he going to be okay?"

Molly Barlow nodded looking very pleased. "I think he's going to be just fine, Phil. You're boy is very smart. Once you listen to that give me a call on my home phone."

The younger agent was still extremely confused but he trusted Molly and if she said everything was fine then he believed her.

* * *

They made their way home in silence, Phil shooting questioning looks to the kid every few minutes. Clint eventually had enough and turned to the older man with a glare that could've rivalled one of Nick Fury's. Phil chuckled and kept his eyes on the road for the rest of the journey.

Once they got home Phil started making dinner, Clint helping where he could. Coulson had decided after the first few days of Clint moving back in that he'd show him how to make some of the easier things. It also made him aware of how skilled the boy was with a knife.

Barton had shrugged and told him he learned to do lots of things while at the circus, including throwing knives. He promised after seeing the wide eyed look on Phil's face that he wouldn't do that here though.

Clint set the table and poured the drinks while Phil brought the plates over.

They both dug into the roast beef dinner, chewing the only sound disturbing the quite house. It was a comfortable silence now. Not like when Clint had first come and neither knew what to say. Phil still hadn't listened to the recording, he was itching to but was wondering if Clint might tell him what was on it.

"Did Molly do something wrong?"

Barton's head snapped up, already shaking his head. "No. She asked me to read and I felt stupid because the books were for little kids." Clint took a gulp of his juice and set it back on the table, still not looking at the older man. "I got kind of angry and threw the books back."

Phil nodded, understanding how the kid felt. "So what's on the recording?"

Clint gave him a small smile and pushed his chair back, grabbing his plate and glass. "Listen to it. I'll clean this up."

The older man watched Clint disappear into the kitchen and pulled out the mobile. He found the voice recordings and pressed play, listening as Clint told the story of _Robin Hood_. It didn't sound like the children's version though. It was then Phil realised what had caused that dumbfounded expression on Molly's face, this must have been the version Clint's mother read to him. The twelve year old had retold the entire story from memory. Phil couldn't remember feeling more proud than he did in that moment. Pushing the chair back he headed into the living room where the boy was watching television and sat down next to him, throwing his arm around Clint's shoulders and pulling him close.

"I'm so proud of you Clint." Phil mumbled against the blonde boy's head.

Barton grinned and relaxed against the agent's side. Maybe everything would be alright.


	10. Chapter 10

Authors Note: Thank you to all that reviewed - **Bookdancer, Lollypops101, lackam, lovinthor, kimbee, sammygirl1963, Qwerty124, ParisAmy** and **Hope06**.

You guys are so awesome, I'm not even half way through the story and you've almost beaten my reviews for 'Father and Son'. Just for that I might even post two chapters today as thanks. ;)

* * *

Phil stood in the middle of the living room, making sure everything was neat and tidy. The social worker was coming to do a home visit today and he was feeling more than a little nervous.

The agent sighed and scrubbed a hand through his short hair. If he was honest with himself he was terrified; scared that he might mess things up. Over the past month he had grown even closer to Clint, the boy was slowly opening up to him more and showing the older man a sarcastic side he wasn't used to seeing. It was nice to know the kid felt that comfortable with him, it warmed Phil's heart in a way he wasn't used to.

Even Fury had started making jokes, calling him Papa Coulson. Phil would usually respond with Black Beard and the Director would glare at him before smirking, shrugging his shoulders and delving back into his paperwork.

Clint was making slow but steady progress with his studies. Phil knew he was determined to pass the tests Molly would put him through at the end. He was getting better with reading from a book but was still better reciting things from memory. Molly tried him with a few audio books to see how he'd do. She found to her amazement that the youngster could repeat the book back to her after a few days.

Coulson found out something new about the kid every day, something that made him even more special. Truthfully he wasn't sure what he'd do if they told him he wasn't going to get custody of Clint. He'd told himself from the beginning not to get his hopes up but he'd already failed. His hopes were well and truly elevated.

Phil spun around to the door when he heard the knock and swallowed down the fear building up inside him. He opened the door and welcomed the woman inside. She nodded at Phil and shook his hand, her eyes already scanning the interior of the house.

"Mr Coulson, I'm Nicole Grey from Social Services," she introduced herself and placed her bag on the ground next to the sofa.

"Hello Ms Grey, and please, call me Phil." He smiled his most charming smile, almost faltering when she glared at him.

"Don't think about trying to charm me Mr Coulson, and I know who you work for. Mr Fury can't help with this side of things. We just want to make sure this is the best choice for Clint." Nicole smirked as Phil looked away, embarrassed. "Just be yourself Mr Coulson. That's all I need to see."

The agent nodded and let the young woman check out his home. His nausea and anxiety grew with each moment she spent going over the house with a fine toothcomb and nearly an hour later Ms Grey wandered back downstairs.

"Would you like a tea or coffee?"

Nicole nodded. "A coffee would be great thanks."

"Sugar? Milk?" Phil asked while pulling out the milk for his own coffee.

"One sugar and milk." She took a seat on the couch and continued filling in her notes, smiling in thanks when Phil handed her a cup. Taking a sip she hummed in delight, this was very good coffee.

Coulson chuckled. "Yeah I get the good stuff."

Nicole finished writing and placed the pad on the seat next to her. "I need to ask you some questions, is that okay?"

Phil smile faltered. "Of course. Ask away."

"Why do you want to adopt Clint? Do you think that you could offer him more than any other family he could be placed with?" She paused before adding, "Your job is dangerous and very demanding, what happens if something happened to you Mr Coulson?"

The agent slouched back in his chair, these were the questions he asked himself all the time. He decided to just be honest. "I want to adopt him because he needs someone who will be there for him, someone he can trust, that won't hurt him. I told myself when he got a placement at the group home that he'd be better off, that he'd have a chance at having a family to love him, to help him through the trauma he's suffered in his young life. All he got from that was ignored, bullied by other boys and a trip to the hospital."

Nicole opened her mouth to speak but Phil cut her off with a raised hand. "I know my job is dangerous, but I also know there is a possibility that something could happen any day. The kid's own parents were killed in a traffic accident. I love that kid and I would do anything to keep him safe, and as much as it kills me, if you tell me that he's not safe here, then I'll help you find him somewhere that is."

The young woman nodded, pursing her lips. "You care about him a great deal Mr Coulson, I can see that very clearly. We'll have to speak to Clint, see what he wants, before making any final decisions."

Phil nodded. They both stood, Nicole placing her note pad in her bag and heading to the door.

"I just want him to be safe and happy," Coulson told her as he pulled the door open.

"I know you do Phil." She shook his hand again. "It was nice to meet you, we'll be in touch soon."

He stayed at the front door until her car disappeared down the street before stepping back inside. He closed his eyes and leaned against the sofa, feeling drained, emotionally and physically.

Pulling out his cell he hit speed dial. After two rings the other person picked up. "_Hello_?"

"Is he there?"

"_Phil_?" Molly asked softly.

"Yeah, can you put him on?"

He could hear a scuffling sound then, "_Hello_?"

"Clint, you alright?"

"_Hey Phil, yeah I'm fine. Are you okay? You don't sound too good_."

Phil chuckled. "I'm fine now. What are you up to?"

Clint spent the next fifteen minutes telling him everything he'd done that day, Coulson was smiling the entire time.

* * *

It was two days later that Clint was cornered by a man from Social Services. He'd just left the briefing room and bumped into the man in a grey suit. Barton thought he looked odd as almost every agent either wore a uniform with the SHIELD emblem on it or a black suit like Phil. Clint kept calling Phil, Agent P because he looked like an Agent from Men in Black.

The older man would just smirk and shake his head.

"Clint Barton, my name is James Sullivan. I work for Social Services." Clint stared at the man's hand which was thrust out towards him, he didn't shake it though.

"I don't think you should be here," Barton told the man while looking down the long corridor for any sign of Phil.

"I've already spoken to Director Fury, he has allowed me to come speak to you," James informed the boy.

Clint's eyes widened slightly, he didn't want to speak to this man, was getting a bad feeling from him. But if Nick had said it was okay then he supposed he should talk to him. He nodded slowly and followed the man into one of the other briefing rooms.

"Can I have someone here with me?" Clint asked. He really wanted Molly or Phil to be there.

"No, I'm sorry. It has to be just the two of us, it's about Mr Coulson you see." James waited until Clint nodded before continuing, "I need to ask you some questions, alright?"

Barton nodded again, staring down at his hands.

"You've been staying with Mr Coulson for over a month now, is that right?"

"Yes." Clint said quietly. He sat stiffly in the plastic chair, his hands resting on his lap were clenched into fists.

"Has Mr Coulson done anything to make you feel uncomfortable?" James stared at him, waiting patiently for an answer.

The twelve year old frowned. He didn't like what this man was implying. "No. He hasn't."

"If we managed to place you with another family, would you prefer if they didn't have other kids?" Mr Sullivan stared at Clint with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

The blonde boy shook his head, he really didn't care. Where ever they decided to send him he wouldn't be there very long.

The dark haired man leaned forward, placing the pen on the table. "I can see you've grown quite attached to Mr Coulson, Clint. But we have to make sure you are looked after by someone who will do what's best for you. Mr Coulson is a career oriented man and will be more focussed on his work than caring for you." He paused, watching the boy's expression for any reaction to his comment. The kid's face remained blank. "A child with your circumstances is going to need a lot of help and attention, does Mr Coulson get frustrated with you?"

Clint glared at the older man but shook his head. "No."

James shrugged and picked up his pen before adding, "It's only a matter of time then."

Barton's nails bit into his skin from clenching so hard. He had never wanted to hit someone as much as he did in that moment.

The man in the grey suit ticked off a few more questions.

Clint ended up either nodding or shaking his head for most of the other questions. Inside he was starting to feel angry, his hands clenched into fists. He needed to calm down, so he reached into his pocket and gripped the hawk Phil had given him tightly, forcing himself to breathe deeply.

James finished asking the last of his questions and stood, leaving Clint sitting in the chair, seething.

It was where Phil found him almost an hour later. He apologised for being late and asked why Clint hadn't made his way up to his office or even Fury's office. Coulson didn't miss the way the boy seemed to flinch at the mention of the Director; _that was a little odd_.

"Clint?" he asked when the kid didn't answer him. Worry swept through the agent, what was going on?

"I'm fine!" Clint snapped and Phil had to stop himself from taking a step back. He'd never seen the level of anger that was being directed at him, before.

"Hey. What's wrong?" Phil asked calmly.

Barton ignored him and stood, walking past the agent and heading towards the garage. "Can we go?"

Coulson sighed and nodded, following behind. It really was one step forward, two steps back with the kid.


	11. Chapter 11

Authors Note: I know I'm nasty, but just to make up for it, here's the next chapter as promised!

Thanks to -** kimbee, lovinthor, Bookdancer** and **sammygirl1963 **for reviewing last chapter!

* * *

Phil stood in the kitchen making breakfast; pancakes, bacon and eggs, Clint's favourites. It had been four days since the Social Worker had visited his home and two days since Clint had stopped talking to him.

The agent had no idea what had happened, or how to fix it. The boy had been stubbornly distant and wouldn't tell him what was wrong. It was like he'd reverted back to the kid he'd first met, and it hurt especially after feeling like he'd been making so much progress.

Coulson was starting to think maybe he shouldn't be the one applying for custody if he couldn't even get the boy to open up to him. Someone with actual experience with kids would be doing so much better. They'd know how to get him to open, to figure out what was wrong before it ever got to this point. Maybe he was doing more harm than good? What if some error on his part caused Clint to shut out the world for good?

Pulling the plates from the cupboard, he turned to start setting the table and almost dropped them when he saw Clint standing like a shadow at the doorway to the kitchen. He hadn't heard him. Phil straightened up and placed the plates down before turning to get the food.

Clint slid into his chair, his stomach had growled when the smell of the delicious food had drifted upstairs, beckoning him. He knew Phil was worried about him, but he didn't want to talk. It would be easier for everyone if he just disappeared. The man from social services' questions kept swirling around in his head. Mr Sullivan asked him if Phil had ever done anything to him or was making him stay here, the agent was trained in manipulation after all. Clint had ignored the question and asked one of his own. He'd asked if he could still talk to Phil or even visit after he was taken into a foster home? James told him that Phil was the one asking them to move him, that he didn't want him anymore.

He knew deep down all he had to do was ask Phil for the truth. It was just that a part of him was afraid that the older man did want rid of him. That flicker of hope that had wrapped itself around his soul when Phil brought him home from the hospital refused to let the question escape his lips. Though hope had never played a useful role in his life, it refused to die and part of him wanted to let it take root and bloom with the idea that someone could actually love him, even if it was only a momentary illusion.

Phil filled the kid's plate, then his own, before sitting at the opposite end of the table. The distance across the table was similar to the distance that had been growing between them. He watched the kid, worry eating at him and suddenly he didn't really feel like eating. Maybe Clint didn't want to stay with him, he'd just assumed that's what he wanted. Perhaps he should've asked him first if he wanted to stay with him, or if the possibility of having a family, a mom, dad, siblings, was something the kid didn't want to pass up.

"Clint, please talk to me," Phil pleaded.

Barton looked up at the agent before shaking his head.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't help you."

Clint felt anger build up inside him. If Phil wanted rid of him so bad, why did he keep trying to make him talk? It was like some sick game, one Clint was getting fed up with.

"You can't help me! Why don't you just leave me alone?" Barton shouted at the older man. "If you want rid of me, stop trying to help me!"

Phil sat stunned in the chair, confusion and hurt flashed across his usually blank features, unable to move as he watched Clint storm back upstairs to his room and slam the door shut. _What the hell was that_?

* * *

Clint couldn't see through the tears streaming down his cheeks. He made it to the bed and collapsed onto it, sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow. Phil had looked shocked at his outburst, probably wondering how he had figured it out. The twelve year old curled onto his side facing away from the door. He couldn't remember a time he felt this bad, not from physical wounds but emotional ones. It hurt much worse than physical pain, like his heart was ready to burst. He didn't hear Phil enter the room, only when the mattress dipped as the older man sat on the edge of his bed did he even realise he was there. A warm, gentle hand rested on his shoulder and suddenly Clint couldn't stop himself. He turned and launched himself into Phil's arms, crying into the man's shirt.

Coulson wasn't really sure what to expect when he sat down on Clint's bed. Having the boy suddenly in his arms definitely wasn't what he imagined. He wrapped his arms around the shaking boy, rubbing his hand up and down Clint's back and whispering words of comfort.

When it felt like the kid had managed to calm down, Phil pulled back. He stared into those blue eyes and saw pain, sadness and the tiniest bit of hope. The agent still wasn't sure what was going on but he was going to do what he'd always done for the boy, be there and not push him for answers. Phil trailed his fingers through Clint's short hair and smiled when the kid leaned into his touch.

"Get some rest, Clint."

The blonde boy frowned. "But don't you need to go to work?"

Coulson shrugged and told him truthfully, "You're more important."

Clint stared at him wide eyed, seeing the honesty in the words before nodding and closing his eyes. It amazed him how exhausted he could be after something as silly as crying. He smiled as he drifted off, Phil's fingers trailing through the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Phil stayed until he was sure the boy was fast asleep before heading down stairs. The words Clint had shouted at him were making him feel sick. '_If you want rid of me, stop trying to help me?_' He didn't know where Clint had gotten the idea that Phil didn't want him but he sure as hell would find out.

Grabbing his cell from the coffee table he dialled Fury's direct line. The Director picked up after just one ring.

"_Fury_."

"Nick, its Phil. I need a favour." The agent was pleased when Fury didn't ask why.

"_What do you need_?"

"Can you check the security feed from two days ago? I need to know if someone said something to Clint."

Phil heard the Director hitting the keys on the keyboard. "_I'll let you know if I find anything Phil._"

"Thank you." He was about to hang up when his boss stopped him with a question.

"_I'm guessing you're not coming in today, Phil_?"

Coulson almost smacked himself, he'd forgot about that. "Umm, no sir. Sorr…."

Nick cut him off with a chuckle. "_It's fine Phil. Take care of your boy, I'll make sure everything runs smoothly here until you're back_."

The line went silent and Phil tossed the phone onto the chair before sitting down. He sat forward with his head bowed, elbows resting on his knees and fingers gripping his hair. The agent had tried over the past few days to remember doing anything that would make Clint believe he wanted to get rid of him. Nothing came to mind.

Phil was so focussed with his internal struggle that he almost jumped when there was a knock on the door. He stood quickly, rushing to answer it. The postman stood with a large brown envelope and pressed it into Coulson's hands.

"I need your signature, sir."

Coulson scribbled his name and thanked the man before closing the door. He stared at the stamp on the envelope and realised his hand had started to shake. It was from Social Services.

Making his way over to the sofa, Phil collapsed onto it and settled for staring at the letter in his hand. This was what he'd been waiting for over the last month and now he was afraid to open it. Afraid that he didn't get custody or scared that he did and Clint didn't want to stay. He wasn't sure which was worse.

Taking a calming breath, he ripped the letter open and pulled out the forms. Phil read over the first page, his heart stopping when he read that he'd been given full custody of Clint. He leaned back in the chair, choking back a sob and wiping away the moisture that threatened to fall. He was Clint's legal guardian. He was Clint's dad.

Phil was pretty sure he was heading towards hyperventilating when he noticed something on one of the other pages. It was notes taken from both social workers, _both_?

The agent read over the notes taken by a man named James Sullivan and felt his blood start to boil. No wonder the kid was so messed up and wouldn't talk to him. This guy basically told Clint that Phil didn't want him anymore.

He decided he'd deal with that later, right now he had a kid to talk to. Coulson took the stairs three at a time and stopped once he reached Clint's door. Taking a deep breath, he entered and sat down on the edge of the bed, just as he'd done almost an hour ago. He didn't want to wake the boy, but he needed to sort this out. He couldn't have Clint thinking he was abandoning him like everyone else in his life had done.

He reached his hand out and touched the kid's back. "Clint?"

Phil smirked when he got a muffled, "Five more minutes."

"We need to talk Clint."

Sleepy blue eyes stared up at him before nodding. "Okay."

Coulson watched various emotions filter across the boy's face before they were hidden behind his mask. Phil decided to just lay all his cards on the table. "I applied for full custody, Clint."

The boy's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"I got the letter today and I promise you I never said any of the things that man told you." Phil realised he'd clenched his hands into fists when Clint's smaller hand was squeezing them. "I didn't even know he'd spoken to you."

Barton gave a half shrug and stared down at the covers. "He spoke to me two days ago. I didn't like him."

The older man agreed, he didn't like him either and would definitely be having words. "Do you want to see what it says?" Phil gestured to the letter on the end of the bed and smiled when Clint nodded.

He passed the letter to Clint and watched as the boy took his time reading the words. The beaming smile that appeared on the kid's face had a warm feeling flow through Phil's entire body. All he ever wanted was what was best for this boy, now he just had to prove it.

"I get to stay with you?" Clint whispered, his fingers trailing over the words on the page in front of him. "Forever?"

Phil beamed. "Yes, if that's what you want?"

The twelve year olds arms were suddenly around his neck, squeezing him tightly as if he were afraid he might disappear. "It is."

Clint laughed as Phil started tickling him mercilessly. "No…please…..stop!"

The agent sat back grinning from ear to ear as Clint panted, trying to catch his breath. The kid looked happy, and that was more than enough for Phil.

"This is your home now, Clint."

The blonde boy nodded slowly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Phil was about to question the look when the kid turned the tables on him and pounced, tickling him back. Coulson wasn't particularly ticklish but the look of concentration on Clint's face as he tried to find the older man's ticklish spots had him laughing anyway.

The sound of the boy's laughter was like music to Phil's ears.

* * *

Fury contacted Coulson later that day and told him the Social Worker had somehow gotten onto the base, cornering Clint outside the briefing rooms.

Phil told Nick what he had read from the notes, neither one of them happy about the way Mr Sullivan had went about his interview. When Phil later asked Clint what the man had said, and why he hadn't asked for someone to be in the room with him, the youngster told him that the man said Fury had authorised it and he wasn't allowed anyone because it was about Phil.

The Director hadn't taken this knowledge well. There was no way he would have allowed Clint to be on his own. James Sullivan had better watch his back, that was all Phil had to say.

Phil sat in the chair at the dining table, watching Clint as he cooked dinner. It was the kid's idea and one Phil couldn't talk him out of. He couldn't remember ever seeing the boy smile so much, it was nice to know he was the cause.

Clint walked over to the table with both plates and set one down in front of Phil before taking his own seat. Coulson breathed in the delicious scent and raised a questioning eye at the boy.

"Just eat it," Barton ordered.

The agent chuckled and took a bite. "That's really good, what is it?"

"My mom used to make it for me all the time, four cheese ravioli."

"Maybe we'll make a chef out of you." Phil looked pleased that the boy was opening up again, telling him things from his past. He knew it was still upsetting for Clint to talk about his parents, but the kid was trying, it's all he could ever ask.

"Maybe…" Clint shrugged.

The older man decided it was time for him to tell Clint something from his past. "My mom used to make me Mac n Cheese, it was all I'd ever eat. I can barely eat one bowl of it now though." Barton chuckled, listening intently as Phil told him what kind of trouble he used to cause, especially having sisters.

The sound of laughter filled the house, signalling the start of something new.


	12. Chapter 12

Authors Note: A huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed - **sammygirl1963, Bookdancer, Lollypops101, Qwerty124, The Purple Donkey, lovinthor, Hope06, kimbee,** **ZhaLenn, Anise Nadiah** and **Fyroni**. You're all absolutely awesome and make a bad day at work, fade away.

The first person to review this chapter will get loads of cookies, as it will have broken my previous record of 88. Scratch that, you will **all** get cookies cause you are all awesome! *cheesy grin*

Enjoy!

* * *

Almost 1 Year Later

Phil wandered through the base in search of the almost teenager, he couldn't believe that Clint was nearly thirteen. It was scary.

The boy had taken to using the vents to get around the base so he didn't have to speak to anyone. He already had most of the camera blind spots worked out so he was essentially invisible to anyone that might be looking for him, but fortunately, Phil knew most of his favourite spots.

It took almost two hours to find Clint, the agent spotted the kid high up on one of the walkways, watching everyone below. Hawk had turned into a nickname for Clint because he was always up high, and Phil had noticed the kid never missed anything. When they'd gotten his eyes checked he was told the boy had perfect eyesight and Clint told them he was nicknamed Hawkeye from a young age.

Coulson smiled as he thought of how far the boy had come in the past year. He still had nightmares but they were few and far between now. The kid was fascinated by everything around him, always wanting to know how things worked, and once he was shown, he never forgot. It was the same the first time Phil brought him to the base for a whole day and showed him around. He told Clint to remember which way to go so he wouldn't get lost; the base was huge after all. Phil found that Clint never got lost, and never had to ask for directions, he had some kind of internal compass that always brought him to the agent. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

Agent Molly Barlow was still tutoring Clint and Coulson knew she was being kept on her toes with the inquisitive teenager. Phil was pleased that the boy had warmed up to the older woman, he was slowly letting other people into his life. Both agents had realised early on that Barton soaked everything up like a sponge, he was better now at reading but still preferred to listen to an audio book. His mind was quick to solve puzzles, some of which Molly had tested on her trainee agents. A few of them had failed, while Clint had passed.

Molly had pulled Phil aside almost a month after starting to tutor the kid and Phil was ready for her to say she couldn't do it. But instead she asked to spend more time with the boy and showed Phil everything Clint had done up to that point. The kid was smart, very smart and seemed to pick everything up quickly. Phil couldn't be more proud.

"Hey."

The agent copied the youngsters sitting position, his legs dangling from the walkway and arms on the railing in front of him.

"Hey yourself." Phil smiled. "I've been looking for you."

Clint arched an eyebrow. "Am I in trouble for something?"

"Have you done something I don't know about?"

The young Hawk shook his head quickly. "Nope, nothing. Don't know what you're talking about."

Phil chuckled and squeezed the back of Clint's neck. It was something the kid always seemed to be fine with, a small show of affection between the two.

"It's time to go home or were you planning on staying here?" Phil asked as he stood.

Barton smirked and jumped to his feet quickly. "I was planning on watching the training session that was about to take place. I heard Johnson and Marks were fighting and now they are going to settle it in a sparring session." Clint leaned against the railing and looked down at the training room below. "I really want to learn to do that."

Phil arched an eyebrow. "What? Sparring?"

"Yeah. If it's okay with you?"

Coulson smiled. "I'll think about it."

Clint scrunched up his face; that obviously wasn't the answer he was looking for. "But Phil!" he whined, and the agent laughed.

"We'll see alright, you don't usually like being amongst groups of people and being in one of those sessions would have you right in the middle of it." Phil patted the kid's arm as they made their way to the garage.

"Okay, but if I think about it and still want to do it, will you let me?" the kid asked with a pleading tone.

"Only if I'm present, alright? And as you aren't experienced I will train you before you even think of sparring against someone else."

Clint smiled and nodded. He could go along with that.

Phil frowned, _what the hell had he just signed himself up for_?

* * *

3 Months Later

Fury made his way to the training room swiftly, agents diving out of the director's way as he marched through the corridors to arrive outside the room that seemed to be drawing a rather large crowd. He had been told to get there right away, so he wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

He pushed through the agents and stopped at the front of the group and froze; this definitely wasn't what he was expecting.

Phil stood to the side while Clint was sparring against one of the trainers. Fury was pretty certain the agent would have been told to take it easy on the kid but the same couldn't be said for Clint. He was dodging and blocking the blows the agent aimed at him and when it looked like the agent was about to get the upper hand, Clint threw himself backwards into a flip, landing lightly on his feet a few feet away; a smile plastered on his face.

Nick shook his head and glanced at Phil who gave him a nod, moving closer to the director.

"What's all this, Phil? I get a call to come down here right away, I wasn't expecting this."

Coulson frowned. "I'm not sure who called you sir, but while you're here…." He let that trail off knowing the director wasn't going anywhere. His one good eye was currently focussing on the youngster holding his own against a trained SHIELD agent, he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing.

Suddenly everyone cheered and Phil turned to see the agent splayed on the mat, Clint having swept his legs out from under him. Once the others noticed that the director was present they excused themselves; a few of the spectators giving Clint a pat on the back, others giving him a brief nod, a job well done.

Clint wiped the sweat from his forehead and helped Agent Sumners off the floor. "You good?"

Sumners nodded and gave the kid a pat on the back. "Man you're fast kid. I found myself trying to keep up."

"It's the one good thing about being smaller, I'm quick as a flash." Clint chuckled, smiling at Phil as he made his way over to the pair. Coulson pointed towards the showers and the youngster groaned but did as he was told.

Fury glanced at Agent Sumners. "Did that kid just kick your ass Agent? Or were you intentionally letting him win?" Nick needed to know if his agents were going to have to get retrained if a thirteen year old could get the better of them.

Sumners glanced between Phil and Fury. "I wasn't putting one hundred percent in if that's what you're asking Director. But I meant it when I said the kid is fast, and a few times I was having to catch up." He used one of the hand towels to wipe the sweat from his face. "If Barton keeps up training with Phil, I wouldn't doubt that in a few years I would have to be at the top of my game to keep up. The kid is good, sir."

Phil smirked and turned to follow Fury down the corridor as the trainer headed back to his own room, for a shower most likely. Nick stepped into his office first and waited until Phil entered before closing the door behind him.

The director walked over to his desk and sat down in the leather chair, Coulson stood opposite his boss and waited. There was obviously something on his mind.

"Have you spoke to him?"

Phil looked confused. "Spoke to him about what, sir?"

Fury smirked. "About what he wants to do? Or is this just a hobby?"

Coulson walked to the seat across from his boss and sat down. "I'm not sure Nick, right now, I think he just wants to learn. We both know he soaks everything up like a sponge."

The director of SHIELD chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I bet you never thought the boy you brought in over a year ago would possibly turn into one of the most talented agents we could have working for us. That's _if_, that's what he wants."

The agent nodded, he never thought Clint would want anything to do with becoming an agent, but at the moment it was looking like a distinct possibility. It was hard to deny that the kid had skills, it probably helped that he was on the streets for nearly three years. He had become adept at being invisible, was quick, silent, and also happened to be very good at memorising different routes. It was how Clint had told him he managed to find his way about while living on the streets, as he was unable to read the signs for street names, Phil knew this would make him a very valuable agent.

"We'll see, I'd rather he just get to be a kid and not have to think about any of this just yet."

Fury nodded in understanding. "Good. And will you please tell him to stop calling me Black Beard, I don't have a beard."

Phil laughed and stood from the chair. "I'll try but you know how he is."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow Phil."

"Goodnight sir." Phil walked out of the office and headed to the showers to collect his boy.

* * *

A few weeks had passed and Clint celebrated his thirteenth birthday. It was strange to him, the last time he celebrated his birthday, apart from the relaxed evening Phil had planned last year, was just before his parents had died. It wasn't something he like to remember, for obvious reasons. But he had to give it to the agent, Phil knew he still wasn't comfortable spending a lot of time in the presence of strangers. He was getting better though. The entire day was spent with Phil; they went out for the day to an assault course where Clint showed how athletic he was. Then they went to a go-kart circuit where the teenager managed to lap Phil, numerous times. Clint couldn't remember laughing as much as he had that day.

Later that night Phil had sat him down and gave him his present. Clint didn't understand because he thought their time spent together that day had been his gift, which he was more than happy with. Phil had just smiled and squeezed his shoulder, telling him silently to open the present.

The teen had sat frozen once he'd taken the birthday paper off the large box. Phil had helped him open it and Clint sat staring in awe at the item in front of him. The older man had a way of knowing what you wanted without you ever having to tell him. Clint had been fascinated by the recurve bow ever since he managed to get a peek at it when waiting for Phil in the weapons training room. The sleekness of the design, the smooth black curves and knowledge that it was deadly, made Clint want to hold it all the more.

_"Are you going to take it out?" Phil had asked_.

Clint had spent the next hour just holding the bow after Coulson had shown him how to snap the weapon to full form. The teen's eyes widened in surprise, and he felt a familiar prickling of tears form when he saw the engraving of a hawk on the side of the bow and writing underneath which said 'Hawkeye'. He reached out and pulled Phil into hug, telling him without words how much he loved the gift. The older man had been caught off guard as it was the first time Clint had initiated a hug. The agent didn't stop smiling the rest of the night. He ordered pizza in and they sat on the couch watching films with archers in them, there were quite a few to choose from.

For Clint it had been the best birthday in seven years.


	13. Chapter 13

Authors Note: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed -** Lollypops101, lovinthor, Hawaiichick, ZhaLenn, Millie, Qwerty124, Anise Nadiah, kimbee, sammygirl1963**, **Hope06** and **Fyroni**. I have a constant smile on my face after reading your reviews.

I'm also feeling a little bad about posting this chapter as many of you have commented on how nice it is that Clint is finally happy...I'm afraid there is loads of angst and some action in the next few chapters.

And some tissues might be needed...*waves a white tissue from behind reinforced glass*

On the plus side as many of you mentioned, you can't hurt me if you want the story to finish. You will need to wait until after lol

Anyway, enough rambling and on with the next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

The impatient teenager sat in the car waiting for Phil to hurry up and complete his 'quick' task in the bank before the pair headed to SHIELD. Clint idly tapped his fingers along the dashboard of the vehicle feeling the need for perpetual motion exacerbate his fidgeting.

The sheer boredom was agonizingly mind numbing and just when he was going to storm the bank to see what was taking the older man so long, a black van pulling up beside the bank caught his attention. His eyes narrowed and a feeling of dread sunk into his stomach. He froze as he recognized the man leading three others out of the back of the van; _Karl._

The man was in his late thirties, with dark hair and a jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. Clint had literally bumped into the man after he ran from the circus. The youngster was offered a job in exchange for some money and food. He'd stupidly agreed. The teen didn't know his last name but he knew the guy was bad news, after one particular run in, where he was asked to help one of Karl's men. The youngster found himself in a room with a weasley looking little man, patting a spot on the bed next to him. Clint's blood had turned to ice at the implications and when the skinny man had stalked towards him, Barton had fought back with everything he had. Fear spurring him into action, he'd managed to escape but not without a few bruises and a scar on his back. Clint made it his primary focus to stay invisible from the man. If anyone crossed Karl or turned traitor, you'd find yourself with broken fingers, kneecaps or in a wooden box.

Clint swallowed down the nauseous feeling and glanced towards the door to the bank. _Come_ _on Phil_, he urged silently. This was not going to end well and he couldn't leave the older man in there when Clint knew what Karl was capable of. A part of Clint was very aware that Coulson was an agent and would probably be able to handle himself against the bad guys, but the rational side of his head wasn't working. All he could think of was getting Phil out of harm's way.

The teen was about to open the door and make a run for the bank when he remembered something Phil had told him to do if he was ever in danger and needed help. He pressed the button under the dash and smiled when it started flashing red; now SHIELD would be alerted to a problem and know where to find them.

Clint just hoped they got here in time.

Opening the car door, the youngster made his way quickly to the front door of the bank and kept his eyes on the men who stood outside the van grabbing bags of 'tools'. Clint knew they were fake and were more than likely weapons; he'd seen them use this trick before on one of their _jobs_. The men were all dressed in grey jumpsuits with some sort of logo on the arm. They were pretending to be workmen.

Clint burst through the bank door, coming to a complete halt at the sight of all the people crowding the wait area. Maybe twenty people were queued and Phil was just reaching the bank teller. Rushing forward, ignoring the sound of his sneakers squeaking on the marble floors, he stopped next to Phil and grabbed his arm. Phil turned to him with a confused expression and was about to ask what was wrong when Clint cut him off.

"We need to go now!" he whispered fiercely, pulling on the agents arm just as violently as his words.

"Clint, what is it?" Phil was already scanning the area for threats; he knew the kid wouldn't be panicking for nothing.

Just as the agent turned, the four men walked through the front doors. Phil reached for his side arm, shocked when Clint clasped his hand round his wrist and shook his head; _don't_.

Within thirty seconds of entering, the robbers had the guard at the door knocked unconscious, the doors locked and the blinds closed. Two of the men, one of which was Karl, pulled out their guns, unloading several rounds into the ceiling.

"Everyone on the ground, NOW!" Karl shouted, the gun aimed at anyone not quick enough to do as they were told.

"Move and you die, got it?" said the other man, his gun levelled at the crowd.

There were frightened gasps and one woman started crying but everyone followed the robber's commands, not wanting to be killed for trying anything heroic.

Clint pulled Phil onto the ground, his eyes wide and terrified.

Coulson could tell that the boy was scared. He just wished Clint had stayed in the car instead of running into get him. The agent knew that the kid had more than likely noticed something strange happening in the parking lot for him to run into a dangerous situation like this one. Then he remembered the look of fear on Clint's face, the flinch when the first man shouted. Perhaps Clint knew this guy? He didn't have time to consider what that meant, he had to get everyone out of here.

Clint was afraid. Phil felt the same but for different reasons. He had promised nothing would happen to this kid, and he was damn well going make sure he followed through on that promise.

Two of the robbers stood over the hostages, their guns scanning for anyone that might try to do something stupid. The other two jumped over the counter and started to grab the money and bundle it into their black bags. They moved in perfect synchronisation, no energy wasted as they filled their bags. Being partners for the past five years made the job seem effortless.

The other man stood stiffly, hands gripping the shot gun, eyes scanning the room for anyone that needed a demonstration of his ruthlessness. He was the new guy of the group and wanted to prove to Karl that he was worth keeping around.

Their Leader, _Karl_, watched with a feeling of superiority. He felt invincible, nothing could touch him. He was a god among his men. Glancing over his shoulder at his two men, they gave him a nod and Karl smiled. Almost done.

Clint could feel the tightness in his chest and willed it to go away. He couldn't get an anxiety attack right now; that would just make things worse. His hand reached into his pocket for the Hawk that he knew was there and froze when one of the men started shouting.

"Shut the fuck up!" echoed off the cold marble walls assaulting everyone's ears with the same force the man used to strike the young woman who couldn't stop crying. She cried out and fell unconscious.

Everyone cringed and just hoped the men got what they wanted and left. No one else needed to get hurt.

Phil turned his head to look at Clint and frowned. The teen was pale and shaking; all the signs that he was having a panic attack. _Crap_! The agent reached out to rest his hand on Clint's back when he was quickly grabbed by the hair and yanked upwards.

"What the hell are you doing?" the guy growled, "I thought we said don't move."

Phil held his hands out to his sides. He knew he could take this guy but there were too many unknowns, and far too many people, so he decided it was best to act like a scared father, which felt scarily accurate.

"My son's having a panic attack. Please just let me help him," Phil pleaded, his eyes never leaving Clint.

"What the hell is going on?" came Karl's voice and Clint visibly flinched.

"Kids having a panic attack," the burly man with the gun replied. "The dad wants to help him."

Karl smirked and walked over. "Kris, go help pack the bags." The man standing guard at the other side nodded. Phil froze as the man walked closer to Clint and aimed his gun at the boy. "How about I just finish him now, and you don't have to worry about him? Would that not be easier?"

Phil shook his head. "No, please don't." The agent felt fear course through his veins and forced himself not to panic, he needed to keep Clint safe.

Karl smirked and crouched down, grabbing a fist full of the teen's hair and pulling him up. Clint's breaths were coming out too fast and wheezing as he tried to calm himself, but it really wasn't working. When his and Karl's eyes locked, he knew he was in trouble.

"Street rat?" he chuckled and Clint cringed at the nickname. "Well, well, well…I didn't expect to see you again." He smiled and looked at the other robber making his way towards them. "You remember Barton, right?" The man nodded with an evil grin.

Phil frowned, he really didn't like where this was going. "Look you've got it wrong, he's my son, he….." The agent was cut off as the gun connected with the side of his head.

Clint tried to cry out but all it did was make his attempt to suck in much needed oxygen harder. He tried to fight back at the hands gripping his hair and felt tears stream down his cheeks as he watched Phil knocked to the ground. Coulson managed to pull himself up and gave Clint a small smile, trying to tell him he was alright, he'd definitely had worse. Blood trickled down the side of his face, forming an expanding puddle on the floor, making his attempts to alleviate the kids concern moot.

"Really? Well, let's just see shall we?" Karl pulled Clint up off the floor, turned him so his back was to Phil and lifted his shirt. He smiled when he saw the scar at the bottom of the kids back, and pointed it out to the agent. When his finger touched the boy's skin he flinched. "I think you're lying, you see I know who put that scar there." Karl chuckled and pulled Clint back around to face Phil, the teens blue eyes were filled with fear. He was beyond petrified and Coulson wanted nothing more than to pound each of these men into the ground.

Phil was sure his heart stopped when the gun was placed against Clint's temple. "What do you say I get rid of your problem, the kid is just a street rat, and you look like a well to do man? I'll be doing you a favour." Karl grinned as Phil turned chalk white and shook his head.

"Don't, please….he's just a kid."

"Are you using this man, Barton?" Karl gripped the back of Clint's neck roughly, the gun never leaving his temple.

The boy shook his head and struggled to pull in oxygen; he could see black spots and felt his legs turn to jelly. "N-no, he took me in. H-he is my d-dad now."

"Hmmm, how about that?" Karl smirked and suddenly the gun wasn't on Clint but aimed at Phil. The teen screamed as Phil fell to the ground, blood pouring from the wound in his stomach.

"Noooooooooooo! Please, let me go!" Clint struggled against the strong hands and fell forward when they let go. Scrambling to Phil's side, he pressed down on the wound, desperate to stop the precious liquid from spilling out.

Phil's hand covered his smaller one and helped put pressure on the hole in his abdomen. He gritted his teeth against the pain but tried to be strong for Clint. He gave him a look that conveyed more than words ever could, _he was going to be alright_. The teen gave a sniffle and nodded.

Coulson gave the boy's hand a squeeze, comforting him, while he tried to control his ragged breathing. Phil couldn't be sure if the bullet had hit anything vital, stomach wounds were always messy. He just had to make sure he didn't lose too much blood. The agent also wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. He knew he should have taken them all out. Clint might be safe then and not leaning over him, pressing down on a bullet wound, worrying if Phil would make it or not. He was supposed to keep the kid safe. He'd failed.

Karl chuckled from behind him. "I hear it's very painful to die from a gunshot to the stomach." He leaned in close to Clint's ear and whispered. "This is all your fault, _street rat_."

Clint closed his eyes as more tears fell, mixing with the blood that he was trying to stop. Phil couldn't die, he was the one person in his life since his parents died that he truly trusted. The man had taken him in and wanted nothing in return except his happiness. The teen wouldn't let Phil die, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to ease his racing heart.

"You're a dead man, Karl," he spat.

The robber turned with wide eyes at the boy before him. That was definitely new; kid had balls.

"You finally grow a set, Barton?" Karl smirked and took a step closer to the teen.

"I could wipe the floor with you." Clint almost smiled at the shocked expression on the other man's face but he was trying desperately to keep it together.

"Let's see what you got kid?" Karl stepped closer but stopped when one of his men growled, "We don't have time for this Karl, we got the money, let's go."

Karl turned back to Clint. "Sorry kid, maybe next time. I'm sure you'll want to avenge your _dad_.

* * *

*hides behind laptop* I hope you don't hate me...a container of cookies is on it's way to you all as we speak. ;)


	14. Chapter 14

Authors Note: OMG! I can't believe how many reviews that last chapter got, give yourselves a round of applause :)

To all that reviewed - **Anise Nadiah, Lollypops101, Guest, Millie, Fyroni, LostHawk, lovinthor, kimbee, sammygirl1963, Bookdancer, Manicpanicgirl, ASKessler** and **Qwerty124**.

So glad the pitch forks didn't come out lol

On to the next chapter!

* * *

The teen looked back to see Phil taking on a ghostly grey shade which was amplified in intensity by the rapidly expanding pool of crimson beneath him. _No!_ Clint's knees gave out but the impact of the floor didn't register, he was too busy trying to get his shaking fingers to hold his jacket in place to stem the bleeding.

Karl chuckled at the sight of the boy trying frantically to save some do-gooder who had taken pity on the hapless street scrum. His thick beefy hand trailed up along Barton's neck entwining cumbersome fingers into the kid's hair. "I'll see you street rat. Maybe we'll even do business again. I could use some one with a little fight in them.

A shiver ran down Clint's spine with every syllable the man uttered. In an instant, without any thought, Phil's back up gun was gripped tight in Clint's hand. All the fear and nerves he was feeling didn't deter the calm steadiness of his hand as he aimed the gun at the thug walking away.

"Stop! Or I'll shoot you!" Clint had never handled a real gun before, only the practice ones with fake bullets, but he had never felt so certain about what he was going to do before and while part of him wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in Karl's heart, Phil would have given even the lowest lowlife a chance to surrender.

"What you gonna do with that Barton? You won't kill me, you have a conscience and the guilt would eat at you."

"Come on, Karl!" one of the other guys shouted at him as the first pulled the door open. A bullet pierced the skull of one of the lackeys and he fell to the floor dead. The remaining three spun to face their fallen comrade, panic took over and they kicked the door closed barricading it as best they could.

"Shitshitshit! What the hell we gonna do Karl?" Kris aimed his weapon at the rest of the people still lying on the ground too terrified to move.

The leader's eyes focused on Barton standing in the center of the bank, body trembling but his hand never wavering. Like a dog guarding his master, the boy shielded Phil, protecting him.

"This is your fault, isn't it?!" Karl snapped and stalked forward, he was going to rip the kid to pieces with his bare hands for thinking he could get one up on him, _no chance_. He completely ignored the fact that the gun was still trained on him and stopped when he stood directly in front of Clint, gun pressed against his chest. Karl back handed the boy with so much force the kid spun and fell to the ground, the gun skittering across the floor. "You're weak Barton, you always will be. Pathetic. Worthless. Piece of garbage!" his voice raised in conjunction with the venom that the words were spat and he watched as Clint back pedalled away from him, trying to reach for the gun. But his hands were still covered in blood, Phil's blood, and he slid, his head connecting painfully with the marble flooring. The teen tried to get up again but a well-placed kick to his side had him gasping for breath.

"Leave him alone," came from one of the hostages.

Karl whipped around to the person who spoke, bringing his gun up. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Hey Karl…." The leader turned back to Clint and froze when the gun the kid had been trying to reach was suddenly in his hands again. Karl raised his own gun just as the shot rang out. The room was silent for only a second before the chaos erupted.

Karl screamed and dropped his weapon, clutching the hole the teen had shot through his hand.

The SWAT teams and SHIELD agents swarmed into the bank. Hostiles were identified and taken down fast with a precision of years worth of practise. The first bank robber they came across raised his weapon at them and was dropped with a bullet to the forehead. The second man, Kris, threw his gun down and raised his hands; he didn't sign up for this shit.

Agent Ryan Black took in the scene in front of him and felt his heart stop when he saw young Barton using both hands to put pressure on the steadily bleeding wound on Coulson's stomach. He strode towards who he assumed was the leader of the group, currently cradling his bloody hand and cursing the kid's name. Karl fought back against the agents trying to subdue him. Agent Black kicked the back of the injured man's knee, bringing him to the ground with a thud.

Two agents pulled Karl to his feet, dragging him towards the doors.

"I'll get you Barton! You're dead! You hear me!" Karl screamed as he was manhandled out of the double doors.

Sam gripped his medical kit in his hands and made his way into the bank. He'd already been told someone was hurt. He hoped it wasn't Clint; the kid had been through enough. Once he was inside his eyes immediately sought out the teen. The medic felt his heart freeze at the sight of the youngster on his knees beside Phil, covered in the man's blood, crying.

He shook himself and moved quickly over to the two. Sam wanted to comfort the kid and tell him everything would be okay, but right now he needed to get his patient stabilised. Pressing two fingers against Phil's neck for a pulse, he smiled in relief when he felt the weak beat of the man's heart.

"He's still alive Clint, but I'm going to need your help, alright?" Clint nodded.

Sam frowned as he took in the state of the teenager and glared over at the men being carried out, he would look him over once Phil was stable. Pulling out his supplies he handed Clint gauze and told him to pack the wound, the bullet was still inside and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it here without causing more damage.

Clint did as he was asked while Sam inserted an I.V and placed an oxygen mask over Phil's nose and mouth. He watched the other medics run in with a stretcher and dropped down next to their unconscious patient. "He needs to get to the SHIELD base ASAP, gunshot wound to the stomach, no exit wound. Severe blood loss so he will need a transfusion, pulse is weak and thready." The medics nodded and rushed Coulson towards the SHIELD chopper. Sam put his arm around the teen's shoulders and guided him towards the second chopper that had just landed.

"I want to go with Phil, Sam." Clint told the medic and headed for the helicopter Phil had just been taken to.

"I know you do kid, but right now they need all the room they can get to work on Phil, okay? And I need to look you over, so come on." Sam guided the boy to the other helicopter just as the door slid open and Fury jumped out, his black leather jacket flapping in the wind. He marched over to the pair as they walked towards him and didn't even stop in his stride as he pulled the teen into his arms. Clint wrapped his arms around the director and sobbed into his jacket. Fury glared at Sam as he stopped next to them, daring him to say anything. Nick caught sight of the men being taken into custody, two of which were in body bags and arched an eyebrow at the medic. Sam shrugged, he had no clue what happened.

"It's okay Clint. We have the best doctors, Phil will be fine. Alright" Fury wanted nothing more than to go over and put a bullet in the two other men that had caused the young boy in his arms to tremble in fear. Clint hugged tighter and nodded, he believed Fury; the man had never lied to him.

"Come on let's get back and get you checked out." He brushed his fingers through Clint's short hair and saw him wince as he touched a lump on the back of the kid's head. Fury glanced at Sam and the medic nodded, Clint would be getting a thorough check up.

They walked back to the chopper and Sam helped Clint inside as Fury pulled his cell. "I want those two men brought to SHIELD, I have some questions for them." He hung up and jumped inside, fastening himself in and smiling as Clint moved to sit next to him. Sam didn't take it to heart, there was only two people Clint truly trusted and that was Phil and Fury.

* * *

The base was a flurry of activity when they arrived, Fury was informed that Agent Coulson had been taken into surgery to remove the bullet and had stopped breathing twice on his way to the base.

Clint had burst into tears and bolted from the room. The glare Fury gave the smaller man that passed the message on was lucky that the director's looks couldn't physically kill. Sam gave the director a worried frown and was given a nod. They had to find the teen because they didn't know what injuries he might have.

Nick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he was worried. Phil was someone he considered a friend and he couldn't imagine losing the man, but Clint was like family now, he saw him as a nephew, and he knew that if Phil died there would be no bringing the boy back from that.

Fury was also worried about what happened inside the bank. His gut was telling him he wouldn't like what he found. The director knew that he would get the witness' statements and he'd find out the full story but he would have preferred to hear it from Clint or his agent. That could be a problem though as Phil was fighting for his life and Clint had vanished, hiding in the base somewhere where no one would be able to find him until he wanted to be found.

Nick headed to the infirmary first, he had to make sure his agent was alive before finding Clint. The boy needed to know his guardian was going to live, not to mention Fury himself. Good news would make getting Barton back to the infirmary to be checked over a little easier.

Three hours passed before the lead surgeon walked out of the double doors and headed for Fury. The man looked exhausted but gave the director a smile. "He's stable. We lost him on the table once, but I was told Agent Coulson's a fighter and he just proved that. He lost quite a lot of blood and is going to be here a few days at least until he gets his strength back."

"Will he be able to get visitors?" the director asked, while silently daring the man to say no.

The doctor looked unruffled by the glare and gave Fury a small smile. "I'm assuming you mean Clint? That should be fine, I will let the nurses know. But just make him aware that Phil will need to take it easy, Director."

Fury nodded and shook the doctor's hand. He was a blur of black leather as he left the waiting room, Clint was still missing but at least he had good news to tell him now. He just had to find him first.

* * *

*hugs and fluffiness coming up next...promise!*


	15. Chapter 15

Authors Note: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews - **ASKessler, Lollypops101, lovinthor, Fyroni, Qwerty124, sammygirl1963, Bookdancer, Anise Nadiah, kimbee,** **VioletBrock, Hope06** and **killmesweetly**.

The hugs and fluffiness as promised ;)

* * *

Clint was hiding in the vent above Phil's office. After leaving the hangar he wasn't sure where to go and found himself in front of the office, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

He gripped the silver Hawk tightly in his hand, praying that Phil was going to be alright. The teen had never felt terror like that before, he was sure he never felt that way when his parents died. When they died he was sad, and he missed them, but he hadn't been present when it happened. This time though he had watched someone from his past shoot the person he now cared for more than he ever thought possible. Phil was like a father figure and Clint wasn't sure what he'd do if they told him the agent had died. If Phil did die, it would be his fault. Bad things just seemed to follow him around like an evil shadow, and he knew if Fury found out that Coulson got shot because of him, he would be sent away. Probably back to the orphanage. He couldn't go back.

Deciding he needed to get out of there, Clint made his way to the vent cover, pushing it open and climbed down easily. He almost jumped out of his skin when someone cleared their throat.

"I thought I might find you here." Fury smiled and walked forward.

He was shocked when Clint backed away from him.

"Clint?"

The teen started shaking again. "Is he dead?" he whispered.

Fury sighed and stepped forward. "No, he's not. Phil is going to be alright Clint and you are allowed to stay in the room with him, if you want?"

Clint shook his head, tears blurring his vision. "It's my fault."

"No, it's not."

"It is," sobbed Clint, "Karl wanted to hurt me! I should have said I was using Phil, he might not have done this." Clint was starting to get angry and Fury knew he needed to calm the boy down.

"None of this is your fault, Clint. I've read the reports, they said you tried to save him, that you stood up to Karl." Fury watched as the various emotions crossed the teen's face. "I also know you were the one that shot him in the hand."

Clint's head snapped up, fear shining in his blue eyes. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to handle real guns, but I didn't have a choice, he was going to hurt people."

Fury pulled the teen into a hug and after a moment he pulled back. His hands cupped the boy's face and forced him to look into the Director's good eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for Clint. You were protecting Phil and the other hostages. You did good son. Phil will be proud of you."

The young Hawk ignored the tears that streamed down his cheeks and let Nick guide him to the infirmary to see Phil. If Fury wasn't angry with him, maybe Coulson wouldn't be either. The trip down the hall was filled with numbness and a vague sense of putting one foot in front of the other. He desperately wanted to see Phil but there was that ever present kernel of fear that whispered misfortune, that something had changed while the Director was busy chasing him down and Phil wouldn't be there.

They stopped outside the room and Clint froze. The gentle squeeze at the back of his neck had him relaxing ever so slightly. Fury gave him a nod to enter and Clint nodded back. He pushed the door open and walked slowly to Phil's side, pulling the chair over to the bed and sitting down. He reached out, giving the agent's hand a gentle squeeze before resting his head on the bed next to Coulson's arm.

"I'm so sorry, Phil," he whispered and felt his eyes close, he was exhausted. Maybe he'd just rest his eyes for a few minutes.

* * *

When he finally awoke Clint sighed as gentle fingers ran through his short hair. He heard someone chuckle and instantly pulled himself upright, staring wide eyed at the man in the bed.

"Hey Clint." Phil smiled, he still looked pale and felt like crap, but seeing Clint's eyes light up when he realised he was awake was enough to make him forget about what happened.

"Phil, you're awake? How are you feeling, do you need anything?" Clint asked and was already standing, ready to get whatever the injured man needed.

Coulson chuckled and shook his head. "Just come here." Clint frowned and stared at him in confusion. "Where?"

Phil patted the bed. "Here. Come on, you said anything."

Clint nodded, and climbed carefully onto the bed, not wanting to hurt the man. Coulson wrapped his arm around the teen and sighed, Fury had filled him in on Clint's state of mind while the kid had been sleeping. He knew the boy would be taking this hard and finding out that Clint was the one that stopped Karl was something Phil knew he would have to talk to the teen about soon. But not yet, right now he was happy just to know the kid was alright, that _he_ was going to be alright and the bad guys were in custody. Well, the two that were left. Phil also had a feeling they might need to talk about who Karl is, and what he did to Clint, because he knew for a fact the man had something to do with the scar on the boy's back and he wanted to know why.

Phil smiled when he felt Clint relax against him and heard the soft snores. It was about time. He would get Sam in to take a look at the kid soon. Right now though they were going to get some much needed rest.

* * *

The next morning Fury went down to visit Phil and smiled as he stood outside the room, Clint was curled up next to the agent fast asleep and it looked like Coulson was about to wake up. Nick opened the door quietly and sat in the chair next to the bed.

It took a few seconds for Phil to remember where he was and what happened. He glanced to his side and smiled at the sleeping boy, then he noticed Nick sitting in the chair.

"Hi boss." He tried to get into a more comfortable position without moving the teen.

"Phil. How are you feeling?"

The agent sighed and closed his eyes before turning back to the director. "Been better, been worse. He's taking this pretty bad, isn't he?" Nick nodded and stared at the sleeping teen. "He needs to get checked out."

"I know Phil, I called Sam. He will be here soon." Fury watched as Coulson struggled to rein in his emotions, they were all over the place right now.

"Did you find out what happened in the bank?" The injured man asked quietly, stroking his fingers through Clint's hair.

"I did. We'll talk about it later Phil. Just focus on getting better because I'm pretty sure the kid won't be leaving your side for a while yet."

Phil smirked and wrapped his arm around the boy, pulling him closer. "Alright."

Sam chose that moment to knock on the door before entering. "Morning Phil, how you feeling?"

"Better, thanks Sam." Coulson knew it was Sam who got to him first and took care of Clint. The medic nodded and turned to the kid. "I'm going to need to wake him."

Coulson held up his hand. "I'll do it." He brushed his fingers through Clint's soft hair and tickled just behind his right ear, smiling when Clint leaned in to the touch; even asleep he felt safe with Phil. The agent felt the familiar warm feeling spread through him, he saw the kid as his, had since he was brought into the infirmary the very first time. "Clint you need to wake up, Sam has to check you over."

They all chuckled at the groan and a mumble. "Five more minutes…..dad."

Phil froze and looked at the two men. Did the kid really just say that? Fury smiled and Sam grinned at him.

"Clint?"

"What?" Clint lifted his head and found three pairs of eyes watching him. "Do I need to get up?"

Phil laughed lightly. "I'm afraid so kid. Sam needs to check you over then you can come back in and see me, okay?"

Clint frowned but nodded, he really didn't want to start an argument with the man lying injured in the bed. "Okay."

The teen slid off the bed and followed Sam out to one of the other rooms to get checked.

Phil turned to his boss with a raised eyebrow. "So tell me what happened."

Fury sighed and explained what he found out from the witness statements and speaking to the two remaining criminals. Fury had spoken to Kris, one of the robbers and found out about Karl's previous association with Clint. Phil wasn't going to like it one bit, hell, he didn't like it and had to stop himself from going into the other cell and shooting the man.

* * *

Phil was alone in the small room when Clint was finally set free. He'd gotten a few stitches to the cut on his head, his ribs were bruised, not broken and the bump to the back of the head had already started to reduce in size.

The youngster pushed open the door to Coulson's room and slipped quietly inside. The older man had his eyes closed and Clint almost jumped out of his seat next to the bed when Phil spoke.

"You okay?"

The teen met Phil's worried gaze and nodded. "Yeah, just bruised ribs and a couple of stitches."

The agent frowned; he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Clint seemed to think that was normal for a child to admit. Fury had told him what he found out and had to push Phil back on the bed to stop him unhooking the I.V and heading to the holding cells. Coulson knew that given half the chance he would be heading down there to see Karl.

"Are you okay?" Phil felt a warm hand squeeze his own and gave the boy a small smile.

"I will be." Coulson replied, then scooted over on the bed as much as he could and gestured to Clint to climb up.

"You sure?" The teen asked warily, eyeing the bandage on Phil's side.

"Yes."

Clint nodded slowly and climbed up onto the bed next to Phil. He lay on his side and felt himself relax when the older man's arm wrapped around him, comforting him and protecting him from the dangers that were all around. They lay in silence for almost twenty minutes before the teen started talking.

"I'm really sorry Phil, this was all my fault. I understand if you want me to leave."

Phil's head jerked up at that. "What?"

Clint turned to face him, tears glistening in his blue eyes. "All I seem to do is hurt the people I care about. They either leave me of their own accord or they get hurt and die. I can't lose you too, Phil, I-I just c-can't."

Coulson pulled the sobbing child into his arms, ignoring the pain the movement caused in his side. He really didn't care about that right now; all he cared about was the teen crying into his chest.

"Shhhhh, it's okay Clint. It's all going to be okay. I promise." Phil soothed, running his hand up and down the boys back. When the sobbing finally stopped and all the agent could hear was the sound of the machines beeping, he realised the kid had fallen asleep again. He brushed his fingers through Clint's short hair and sighed. The teen had been through a lot in his young life, more than most people dealt with in their whole lives, but he kept fighting, kept surviving and now he had Phil in his life. The agent would make sure nothing else happened to him, and with Fury in their corner, well that said it all. No one pissed off the Director.

The older agent continued stroking his fingers through the teen's hair and felt his own eyes slip closed. He'd speak to Clint when he woke up, right now he settled for resting his injured body, giving it time to heal before he would pay Karl a visit. He'd make the man regret ever laying a finger on Clint.

* * *

It was a couple of days before Phil was able to get out of the bed and walk around without Sam arguing with him about taking it easy. To the experienced agent this was easy, he'd been shot before, numerous times in fact, and was well aware of what his body could handle. And right now he had to go find Clint.

The kid had spent the last couple of days glued his side but when Phil woke up almost an hour ago and found the teen had disappeared, he tried very hard not to panic. So many different scenario's crossed his mind and the one that stuck out was the thought that Clint might run away, go back to living in the streets. Especially after his earlier confession about hurting the people he cared about, Phil knew the kid would think he was protecting him. In reality it would break the agent. He couldn't imagine not having the boy in his life. Clint was his in every way, maybe not by blood but in his heart and soul. Clint was _his_ son.

That thought made him pull his trousers on as quick as he could and was just starting to button up his shirt when the door opened and the teen walked in carrying a tray of food.

Clint arched an eyebrow at the older man. "Should you be out of bed?"

Phil just stood there gaping like a fish. "Where were you?"

"I was making you breakfast, _well_ the kitchen staff made breakfast, I just told them what you liked. Here." He set the tray down on the table and helped Phil over to the chair. Coulson knew he didn't need the assistance but it helped the kid feel useful.

"Thank you." He breathed in the smell of pancakes, syrup and bacon. Clint grinned when the handler's stomach growled in annoyance that it wasn't being fed quick enough. Phil gripped the fork and dug in. He groaned; the food tasted like heaven compared to the infirmary's food.

When he was half way through, Phil glanced up to see the kid watching him. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah, they made me a breakfast wrap while I was waiting for yours."

Coulson was glad, he was sure the kid would forget about taking care of himself in favour of helping him. "Was it good?"

"Yeah. Really good, I might even have another later." The teenager grinned and waited until Phil had finished before his expression turned serious.

"I know you want to ask me what Karl did, Phil. And I promise that someday I might feel brave enough to talk about it, just not right now." Clint pleaded and Phil found himself nodding. He would never force the kid to tell him, he just wanted to be there for him. "I trust you more than I've trusted anyone in a long time, Phil and it's just taking me some time to get used to the idea of having someone there for me. I guess this is what it's like to have a family. I'd forgotten what that was like."

Coulson pushed the small table back and stood slowly. Making his way over to the teen and pulled him into an embrace. Phil was pleased when he felt Clint's arms wrap tightly around his back. "You have a new family now kid, and we will all look out for you. You're not alone anymore." He felt the kid nod against his chest. "I won't force you to talk about things you aren't ready to tell me, but just promise me Clint, when you're ready, if you ever are ready, that you will come to me."

The teenager gave him a brief nod. "I will." He whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

Authors Note: I was so shocked to sign on today and see that my reviews had jumped up to 143! WOW!

Thanks sooooo much to you all who have reviewed this, I love reading what you have to say -** lovinthor, Qwerty124, Lollypops101, Hope06, VioletBrock, ASKessler, Makurayami Ookami, sammygirl1963, Anise Nadiah, kimbee, I'mNotAPsychopath, Fyroni **and** ZhaLenn**.

More fluffiness! Plus Phil and Clint have a heart to heart.

Enjoy!

* * *

The drive back home was made in silence. The occupants of the car too busy in their own little world to make any attempt at conversation. The driver of the SHIELD issued dark sedan pulled up onto the driveway and turned off the ignition.

Agent Riley turned to tell his two passengers that they'd arrived when he noticed with a smile that the teen was already out of the car and rushing round to the other side, pulling open Phil's door.

The injured agent smirked at Clint's actions; the kid had been overly protective of him for the past week while he was in the infirmary. Sam had also given Phil the run down on what he wasn't allowed to do. Coulson nodded along but a glance to his side showed Barton was taking it all in and gave him a look that said, '_you will be doing as you're told_.' Phil had sighed, nodding in agreement. There was no arguing with the kid when he was in mother hen mode.

"Take it easy Phil." Clint helped him out of the car then carefully up the few steps to the front door. The older man reached for the keys in his pocket but Barton gently slapped his hands away. "I'll get them."

Phil knew the kid felt responsible for what happened. For that reason alone he tried not to snap at the boy that he was fine. He was used to looking after himself, always had. Now he had to get used to having someone else caring about him. Coulson should have seen this coming though. As much as he was protective of the teen, why shouldn't Clint feel just as protective of him?

Agent Riley followed in behind with Phil's bag, his medication and Clint's smaller bag filled with clothes. The teen spent the past few days staying at SHIELD, watching over the older man. Not even Fury could talk him into leaving Phil and spending some time with Molly, his tutor or even himself. The Director didn't take it to heart.

Clint loved Phil. He was the father he should have had. Fury knew that nothing could break the bond those two had. Nothing.

"I'll just leave these here, alright?" The younger Agent motioned to the couch.

Phil made his way over to the sofa with Clint's help and sank into the soft cushions with a sigh. His body already relaxing as the soothing smells and sounds of his house washed over him. The older man hated the constant beeps and noise in the medical bay. He rarely got any sleep, maybe now he'd manage to get some much needed rest. Phil gave the Agent a nod. "Thanks, Craig."

Agent Riley nodded before making his way back to the door. "Take care, Agent Coulson." He turned to Clint and gave him a nod. "Watch him like a hawk, Barton."

Clint grinned. "I will Craig. Thanks for being our chauffeur for today."

"Don't mention it." He gave the teen a small wave before getting into the car.

Barton watched him drive out then closed the door and locked it.

Walking over to the couch, he smiled softly when he realised Phil was fast asleep. The painkillers he'd been given were apparently really good, they knocked the agent on his ass after taking them. Clint made his way upstairs to his room and opened his closet. Searching through the various new clothes Phil has bought for him he finally found what he was looking for. Pulling the fleece blanket out, he held it close to him and breathed in the scent of coffee, cologne and something distinctly Phil which always made him feel safe. A few months back Clint had come down with a stomach bug, he'd been ill for almost a week. Phil's response had been to run to the store, stock up on medicine and purchase the fluffiest blanket he could find.

Barton remembered having the older man wrap it around him tightly, then brush his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. He'd never felt so safe, or happy even despite the crappy circumstances of being ill. He hoped the blanket would make Phil feel better too.

Making his way downstairs he was happy to see the older man hadn't moved. Clint moved to Coulson's side, lifting his feet up and around to rest on the sofa. The teen made use of the cushions, placing them behind Phil's head, then wrapping him up in the blanket. Phil mumbled something under his breath and pulled the blanket closer.

"Sleep tight Phil," whispered Clint before heading to the kitchen. He'd make some dinner for them both. Already knowing the older man would be hungry for real food once he woke up; the cafeteria food just didn't cut it.

* * *

Phil came to gradually, the smell of something wonderful assaulting his nostrils, followed by the sound of someone humming. He blinked open his eyes and realised that he was home, sleeping on the couch.

Sitting up slowly, Phil swung his legs on to the floor carefully, the wound in his side still hurt when he moved certain ways. Just as he was about to stand he noticed the blanket still wrapped round his legs. He smiled at the memory, not that Clint being ill was something he wanted to happen again, but it was the first time Phil had started to feel like a father, watching over his son and taking care of him. It seemed Clint was once again returning the favour.

He folded the blanket up then set it on the couch before making his way slowly into the kitchen. The teen was in the middle of cooking while listening to his music. Phil noticed the ear buds and reached forward to pull one out when Clint caught his hand mid-air, stopping him.

Clint's eyes widened and he released Phil's hand, pulling his buds out of his ears. "Sorry, you alright?" he asked.

Coulson was still reeling from the fact the teen had known he was there with his music blaring; the agent could hear it from his place on the couch. It seemed the kids instincts were getting better, his training in hand to hand was increasing and he was becoming highly skilled, especially for someone his age.

"I'm fine," Phil told the teen, then moved to the cooker. "What are you making?"

"It's a surprise. I know how much you hate the food at SHIELD so I'm making your favourite."

Phil smiled. "Thanks."

The teen shrugged. "It's the least I can do."

The agent frowned at that. The kid was always trying to make up for things, things that weren't his fault but he would take responsibility for. Phil knew he was going to have to speak to him about it, soon.

Clint was watching the older man with worried eyes. Wishing Phil would just sit still and rest, let him take care of everything else.

"Why don't you go put your feet up and I'll get this sorted," the teen proposed.

But Phil was already shaking his head. "I'll set the table, you can finish that."

Clint was ready to argue but the injured man raised his hand, silencing him. The teen clamped his mouth shut and focused on the chicken sizzling in the pan.

Coulson pulled the plates out of the cupboard and went about setting the table. He took his time, feeling Clint's eyes watching him like the hawk he was named after.

They were definitely going to have words.

Once dinner was ready, Clint put everything out on the table. Tortilla wraps were placed in the centre so they could help themselves, along with all the other ingredients. The teen knew how much Phil loved Mexican wraps, he liked being able to put whatever and however much he wanted on it.

The older man's eyes widened in delight at the sight of all the food. Even though he'd had food while at SHIELD, it was nothing compared to a home cooked meal. Something he'd found himself looking forward to at the end of every day.

"This looks great Clint," he told the teen.

Barton grinned. "Dig in Phil, there's plenty for the two of us."

The next twenty minutes were filled with the sound of chewing and swallowing. Coulson sat back with a sigh after his fourth filled wrap, resting a hand on his full stomach and watched as Clint took a large bite of his sixth wrap. The agent chuckled, shaking his head. There really was no filling that kid.

Waiting till the youngster was finished before standing, he reached to gather up the empty plates. Phil was taken by surprise when Clint was out of his seat and grabbing the plates from his hands.

"You're supposed to be taking it easy Phil." Clint stared at him, his blue eyes flashing in annoyance. He just didn't understand why the older man couldn't do as he was told. Never realising how over the top he himself was being.

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "I am taking it easy Clint. I've been injured before you know, I looked after myself back then," he commented softly.

The teen's eyes lowered. He turned away, heading to the dishwasher and loaded the dishes into it. He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder gently, then turn him around. Clint wouldn't meet Phil's eyes, didn't want to see the disappointment he knew he'd see. What he didn't expect was the older man to pull him into a hug. Clint froze for a second, then wrapped his arms around his guardian, his saviour; the man who had done more for him than anyone else in his young life and asked for nothing in return.

Phil felt the subtle tremors through the boy's shoulders and knew he was crying. He guided him back to the sofa, sitting him down, then crouched down in front. Clint still wouldn't meet his eyes, it was only when Phil reached out and tilted the teen's chin up that he saw the tears glistening in those blue orbs.

They needed to talk this out, now seemed like the best time.

Coulson gripped Clint's hand in his. "I'm only going to say this once and I need you to listen. Alright?"

Barton nodded, waiting for the inevitable. Phil was going to throw him out, tell him he didn't want him here anymore. He knew it would happen eventually, he'd just hoped that by helping the older man out, he could prove that he was worth keeping around. It was his fault Phil got shot after all, he knew that for a fact no matter how many times Phil said it wasn't.

"What happened in the bank wasn't your fault Clint. None of it was. I need you to stop blaming yourself for it, or for anything else that happens. You take too much on your shoulders kid, but I'm here now and I'm going to take some of that weight from you. You just have to let me." Phil noticed Clint's eyes widen a little and knew that the kid was probably waiting to get told to leave, or something like that. Those were just the kind of thoughts that the kid seemed destined to torture himself with.

Coulson hated that the boy had absolutely no confidence in himself or in other people to help him. He knew Clint was getting better but sometimes it was like talking to a brick wall, or banging ones head against it.

He decided to try a different tactic. "Tell me what you're feeling Clint." He tapped the kid's forehead lightly. "What's going on up there?"

Clint chewed his lower lip and glanced up to Phil's concerned eyes. "I know you said it's not my fault Phil, but I still feel like it is. I need to make up for everything you've done for me, you don't even ask for anything in return."

Phil smiled sadly. "Yes I do Clint. I ask that you be happy, that's all I ever want for you."

"How can I be happy knowing you got shot because you were trying to protect me? I should have told him you didn't mean anything to me, then he might have left you alone." Fresh tears streamed down the teen's cheeks as he spoke, spitting the words out like they were poison.

The agent squeezed Clint's hand, comforting him and getting his attention. "You don't know that Clint. If you told him I meant nothing to you, he would've still shot me. I'm certain of it. The man is evil Clint. He wants nothing more than to cause people pain and suffering. He's doing it to you even now." Phil spoke softly, willing the teen to hear the truth in his words. "You need to let this go."

Barton wiped the wetness from his cheeks and stared at Phil. He knew that Karl would have shot Phil, it was just the kind of thing he'd do. But it didn't make seeing the man he cared so much about getting shot in front of him any easier. "I know he would have. I just keep telling myself that maybe, just maybe he wouldn't have done it. Then I can torture myself with reasons why this is my fault." His blue eyes bored into Phil's brown. "I was scared. I've never felt so terrified in my whole life. I watched you get shot, then tried to keep you alive, while facing one of my worst nightmares. I don't think I could handle anything happening to you Phil."

The agent was speechless, he'd never gotten Clint to talk very much about his feelings. Just bits and pieces but now he was letting Phil see everything. The usual wall the kid had up was gone, all the emotions he usually kept hidden like pain, worry, guilt and fear were bared for all to see.

Phil pulled the teen into his arms, embracing him in a warm hug. "I love you Clint," he whispered. "You mean the world to me and I'm sorry for not protecting you better."

Clint pulled back, his eyes wide in surprise. "What?"

Coulson chuckled sadly. "You might feel like what happened is your fault, but while I was lying there in that bank, all I felt was that I'd let you down. I was leaving you to fend for yourself and I should have been the one looking after you."

"You got shot!" Barton exclaimed.

"Yeah I did. But Karl still hurt you and I feel responsible. Are you going to tell me that what happened to you wasn't my fault? Because if it is then this is just going to keep going around in circles."

Clint gave Phil a small smile. "I know what you're trying to do. Sneaky."

"Yeah well, I'm learning I need to be a little sneaky sometimes to get things by you."

Phil pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the creak that came from his knees. Barton leaned forward to help him up then smirked playfully. "First sign of old age Phil, creaking."

"Ha ha, very funny. Now help me get upstairs would you. I'm going to take a shower."

Clint laughed and stood. They made their way slowly upstairs, Phil kicking himself for staying in that crouched position for too long. Now his knees hurt. Maybe Clint was right, he was getting old. The teen helped him into his room and was about to leave him to it when he stopped at the door.

"I love you too, Phil." With that he disappeared out the door and back downstairs, someone had to finish cleaning up.

Phil stared at the door long after it shut with a goofy smile on his face. Yep, things were definitely looking up.

* * *

Phil was awoken by a strange sound in the middle of the night. He lay still waiting to hear it again. _Thwack_. Frowning, he swung his legs out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt before implementing his years of training to slink down the stairs towards the kitchen. Phil noticed the back door was open slightly, sighing he made his way to the door, sliding it open the rest of the way.

If he hadn't been so tired and a little confused, he might have laughed at the wide eyed look Clint shot him as he was ready to loosen another arrow into the target at the end of the garden.

"What are you doing?" Phil asked.

Clint shot him a 'duh' face, _what did it look like_?

Phil rephrased the question. "Why are you out here at three am?"

The young archer focussed back on his target and let the arrow fly. It landed with a familiar thwack. Phil stepped outside, making his way over to Clint, stopping the teen before he could load another arrow.

"What's wrong?" Phil asked in concern. The kid had seemed fine before they went to bed.

"Nothing." Clint snapped, he started to raise another arrow but Coulson kept his hand on the bow, preventing him from loading another.

"Talk to me." Phil pleaded.

The teen's eyes widened when he heard the older man pleading; he'd never heard Phil like that before. Sighing in defeat, Barton lowered the bow. "I had a nightmare, so I came out to practise."

"What was the nightmare about?" Phil already had a feeling he knew what it would be about.

"Karl came after me, he was going to kill me and you pushed me out of the way. You died in my arms and all I could hear was him laughing then pulling me away from you." Clint used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe his eyes. God he was getting so tired of crying like some little girl.

Phil wrapped an arm around Clint shoulders and squeezed. "It's probably because we spoke about it earlier. I'm fine Clint. It was just a bad dream."

"I know. But it felt so real, so I came down here to practise. It helps clear my head when I fire my bow. It also helps that I imagine it's him I'm aiming for."

Coulson knew he should be worried about the kid admitting to wanting to kill someone, but he also knew that Clint needed an outlet to the anger he was feeling. If firing his bow helped, then so be it.

He glanced down to the end of the garden, squinting in the darkness to see the target he knew was there. Phil stared in surprise when he spotted all four arrows that had been fired sat close together in the centre of the red circle. He glanced back at Clint who was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.

_Damn that kid was good_.

"Come on Robin Hood, you can practise more tomorrow at a normal hour."

Clint smiled at the nickname, it was his favourite book after all. He followed Phil inside, only stopping when he reached his bedroom door.

Phil squeezed the back of his neck, then nudged him gently into the room. "I'm proud of you Clint. Now get some rest, you're going to be busy tomorrow."

Clint frowned. "Why? What will I be doing?"

Coulson smirked. "I'm going to see how good you are with your bow and arrows."

Barton grinned. That sounded like a challenge, he loved a challenge. He nodded and climbed into bed. Sleeping soundly the rest of the night, the thought of shooting his arrows and Phil being proud of him making sleep come easily.


	17. Chapter 17

Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed - **VioletBrock, WhomeverIAm, lovinthor, kimbee, sammygirl1963, Hope06, ASKessler, Lollypops101** and **Fyroni**.

I have made a point of spell checking this chapter, as I'd forgotten in the previous. Thanks for pointing it out to me ASKessler, it has now been fixed.

On to the next chapter ;)

I think this is the longest chapter of the story lol, enjoy!

* * *

A week went by before Phil returned to work. Clint had taken time from his schooling with Molly to be there for the injured agent. Coulson had challenged the young archer over the past week, getting him to make more difficult shots with his bow and arrows; some from further away, others from different angles. He wanted to see if the kid could hit the target every time. It seemed he could.

Phil enjoyed the look of pure joy that would burst across the teen's face when he made a particularly difficult shot, or the look of happiness while simply holding the sleek, black weapon. It was a nice contrast to the boy's usually blank expression, _well_ with anyone other than Phil. But even then the agent had to admit that he only got to see a genuine smile from Barton on the odd occasion over the past month. He was going to have to change that.

Coulson stopped outside the Director's office, taken by surprise when the door opened before he could knock. Nick Fury smiled when he saw Phil standing there, one hand raised and a shocked look on his face.

"Come in Phil." Fury motioned him inside. "How are you feeling?"

"Better sir. Clint made sure I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to," he replied with fond exasperation.

Nick chuckled, "Good. You need someone to keep you in line."

Phil shot his boss an affronted look. "No I don't."

Fury looked on in amusement. "You trying to tell me you wouldn't have done any of the things Sam told you not to do if Clint hadn't been there? Because we both know that's a lie."

Coulson wondered when Nick and Clint had started to gang up against him. He realised when it was his health that was at risk, they always rallied together. It made him smile inside; outwardly he glared at the Director.

Fury laughed, a rare occurrence for him. "Sit down Phil. We have things to discuss."

Phil did as he was asked, sliding into the comfortable chair across from his boss. "What's going on sir?"

Nick could always count on Phil to be professional, this time was no different. "It's about Karl."

His agent's expression darkened at the name of the man responsible for so much pain. "What about him?"

Fury slid a file across the desk. "The CIA wants custody of Karl, he is wanted for various illegal activities: robbery, kidnapping, selling drugs and prostitution. There's more but I stopped reading after that." He stared at Phil with his one good eye. "They're promising he will go away for a long time, I just wanted to let you know."

Phil remained stony faced, staring down at the picture attached to the file. He wanted to ring that man's neck with his bare hands for what he did to Clint, in the bank and from before. Coulson might not know the entire story from what happened years ago between Karl and Clint but he knew from the fear on the kid's face that it wasn't good.

"When does he get moved?"

"In a few days. They're sorting out transport for him to a secure facility." Fury explained. The Director wasn't happy either, but the man had other crimes to pay for. They would get justice, or Nick would make sure a bullet was put through Karl's head.

"Can I speak to him before he goes?" Phil asked calmly.

Fury arched an eyebrow at his agent. "You sure that's a good idea Phil?"

"I _want_ to speak with him before he is moved Director."

Nick sighed. "Of course. Just don't make me regret this Coulson."

Phil nodded and stood, heading to the door, his shoulders stiff and back straight. He didn't say anything else as he pulled the door open and walked out.

Fury slumped back in his chair, watching the security feed from the cell Karl was in. He wasn't sure if giving Phil permission was such a good idea.

* * *

Agent Molly Barlow watched as Clint worked his way through another workbook. She still couldn't believe how quickly the teen picked up complex mathematics, it wasn't exactly the easiest thing to learn. Especially for someone who hadn't had much of an education. But Barton was a constant surprise. The thirteen year old was now learning at an eleventh grade level, Molly and Phil were both very proud of him.

Clint chewed absently on the end of his pencil as he worked out the equation in his head. He always found it easier to work it out in his head than to write things down and show his work. Glancing up to his tutor he gave her a small smirk before finishing the last sum, sliding the book back to her.

Molly raised an eyebrow then flipped open the book to start checking the answers. She wasn't surprised when almost every answer she checked was correct, only a couple were wrong. But out of one hundred she deemed that to be very satisfactory.

"Very good Clint," she praised.

Barton grinned as he leaned back in his chair. "So what's next?"

Molly shook her head at the kid's constant desire to digest new information. "Why don't we call it a day? We've been going at this for nearly five hours Clint. You want to take a break?"

Barton shrugged, eyeing the new books on the table. "What's that one?" he asked pointing to the one nearest Molly.

"It's languages Barton." She could see his eyes light up at the prospect of learning foreign languages. "Soon Clint. We'll work on your History and Science first before moving on to that."

"Okay." Clint stood and grabbed his bag from under the table. "Thanks Molly, see you in an hour?"

His tutor nodded, giving him a shooing motion with her hand. "Go on get out of here before I change my mind."

The teen chuckled, disappearing out of the door. He decided he would head to the training room first, then grab something to eat. Pushing open the double doors he was pleased to see that the room was mostly empty, only a couple of agents were present and one of them was making their way to the showers.

Clint gave Agent Simmons a half wave, the older man smiled and headed towards him.

"You here to practice Barton?" the agent asked.

The young archer nodded, pulling on his athletic shorts, then his grey t-shirt. "You want to spar with me Daniel?"

Simmons chuckled, making his way on to the training mat. "Let's go then, short stuff."

They both stood opposite each other on the mat, the older man narrowed his eyes at Clint's playful smirk. He'd have to keep his guard up, the kid had some pretty nifty moves. They circled each other, sizing the other up before Simmons lashed out with a right hook. Barton easily dodged the fist aimed for his head, then he grinned. _This was going to be fun_.

Clint feigned a right hook which Simmons dodged but wasn't quick enough to stop the kid's left from making contact with his right side. It wasn't a hard hit but Daniel knew the kid was just warming up. They threw a few more punches at each other before finally getting into a rhythm. Then Barton aimed a high kick at his face, he managed to avoid the hit then aimed one of his own at the teen's head. Clint bent backwards at the waist and watched as Daniel's foot passed just over his head, he immediately sprung into a backwards flip, landing a few feet away.

Simmons charged forwards throwing right and left hooks, secretly pleased when Clint managed to dodge or block every one of them. Then the young archer dropped, trying to swipe the agent's legs from under him. Daniel stumbled back a step but that was all Clint needed, he was on top of the agent in two steps pinning him to the floor.

They both looked up at the door when the sound of clapping echoed around the room.

Clint smirked, rolling backwards to his feet. "Hi Phil."

"Hi. I thought you'd be at the cafeteria having lunch." Phil moved forward, gripping Clint's shoulder affectionately, then used his other hand to help Agent Simmons up off the floor.

Daniel gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks Agent Coulson. He's getting better, kids going to be a match for you or Fury soon enough."

Phil chuckled at Clint's wide eye expression. "Seriously? You think Nick would fight me?"

Daniel laughed. "I don't think the Director could say no to you Clint. For anything."

Barton looked pleased, he headed to grab his bag and follow Phil when the older man raised his hand. "Shower, now." Clint groaned. "Go."

"Fine." The teen grumbled, walking to the showers.

Coulson watched as the youngster disappeared, then turned to the other agent. "How's he doing?"

"Really well Phil. I don't doubt that he could kick any of the new recruit's asses if he wanted to. A year or so down the line and I'm pretty confident he could kick yours." Simmons smirked at the glare he received for that comment.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on him Daniel. Just make sure he doesn't go around kicking everyone's ass, alright?"

The other man nodded, then made his way to the showers.

Clint walked out a five minutes later dressed and drying his hair with a towel, making it sick up every which way. Phil laughed, pulling the teen to his side. Together they walked out of the training room, heading towards the cafeteria.

* * *

Barton looked up from his spaghetti bolognaise, at least he hoped that's what it was, and stared at Phil chewing slowly on a piece of chicken. "What's wrong?"

Coulson glanced up from his dry chicken salad. "Nothing."

Clint arched a doubtful eyebrow. "Seriously, that's what you're going with? After asking me to be truthful with you, you're going to start lying to me?"

Phil sighed, pushing his half eaten plate away. "Nick told me that Karl is being transferred to the CIA. They want to convict him for other crimes he's committed."

"So what's the problem?" Clint asked carefully, he just wanted the man to disappear.

"I'm going to speak to him before he goes."

Barton froze. "Why?" Clint felt fear grip his heart for a second at the thought of Phil being anywhere near Karl. The last time they were in the same room Phil had been shot, almost dying. The teen couldn't handle anything else happening to the agent.

"To make sure he knows that he is never going to hurt you, ever again." Phil replied easily.

"You don't have to do that you know. I know you won't let anyone hurt me Phil," Clint told him truthfully, his eyes shining with sincerity.

The agent leaned over the table and squeezed Clint's hand. "Thank you Clint."

They both took another bite of their food before deciding it was enough. Phil noticed the teen checking his watch and smiled. "What did you learn with Molly today?"

A genuine smile spread across the youngster's face. "I finished another workbook and she said we're going to continue with History and Science before I start to learn languages. I can't wait."

"That's good. I'm so proud of you Clint." Phil laughed at the blush creeping up on the teen's cheeks. "Go on then, learn something."

Barton jumped up from the table, grabbing his tray and emptying it into the trash before rushing out of the cafeteria with a wave in Phil's direction.

The agent chuckled at the kid's enthusiasm; he really was a sponge, soaking up everything he learned quickly. Phil glanced down at his half eaten food with a frown, they really needed to get a new chef or something. Standing slowly he made his way to the trash can and emptied his leftovers. Now he'd go start the piles of paperwork that had built up in his absence. He really wished he could be as happy at his work as Clint seemed to be with his schooling, but he knew all the paperwork was going to do was give him a headache.

_Oh well_, he thought. _Better make a start at least_.

* * *

The following day the young archer found himself in his usual refuge. Clint focussed his full attention on the punch bag in front of him. He'd been in the training room for the past two hours, running on the treadmill, practicing his acrobatic moves before turning to the punching bag in the corner of the gym. His thin t-shirt was soaked with sweat from the rigorous workout. He used his hand towel to wipe away some of the sweat, before tossing it back on the floor.

Barton was trying not to think about where Phil was at this precise moment. He jabbed the bag forcefully with his right hand, already knowing the agent was in the cells with Karl. Clint knew he shouldn't care but everything inside him twisted painfully at the thought of Phil being anywhere near that monster. Karl wouldn't try anything, not while inside SHIELD with agents at every corner. Clint just couldn't shake the bad feeling that was settling in the pit of his stomach.

He was really starting to hate that feeling.

After his final assault on the punching bag, Clint dropped his hands to his sides, clenching and unclenching his hands. He felt a presence behind him and reacted on instinct. The hand that was reaching out to touch him was gripped in the youngster's right hand, twisted so the persons arm was bent backwards.

Clint froze when he realised who it was. "Nick?" he released the Director's hand immediately. "Sorry." He shrugged.

Fury rubbed his arm while smiling in amusement. "You're getting really good kid."

"Thanks."

Nick stood patiently as the youngster grabbed his gym bag, quickly changing into a fresh t-shirt. The usually unreadable expression on Fury's face showed anguish at seeing the tell-tale scars that littered the teen's back. Those scars told a story of what the boy had been through, Nick wasn't sure he'd ever be able to handle hearing the stories behind them. Not without doing something about it.

He waited until Clint was ready before motioning the kid to follow him. Barton did without question.

They strode through various corridors, then took the elevator down to the basement. Clint's eyes widened in surprise when he realised where they were, the holding cells.

His blue gaze focussed on the Director. "Why did you bring me here?" he asked quietly.

"Because you need to put what this man did to you in the past, Clint. He can't hurt you anymore." Fury nodded to the furthest cell. "Plus, I think Phil is going to want to see you when he is finished in there."

Barton nodded, making his way slowly towards the furthest cell, he could hear Phil's voice before he saw him. Clint froze just out of view, his heart thundering in his chest made him reach for his most precious possession, _the Hawk_. His fingers wrapped around the solid silver hawk like a life line and he focussed on his breathing until his heart wasn't pounding in his ears.

The young archer almost jumped out of his skin when a hand was suddenly gripping his shoulder. He looked into the distressed face of his guardian who was crouched in front of him. It was kind of funny because Clint couldn't remember sliding down to the floor.

"You okay Clint?" Phil asked in concern.

Barton knew the older man was worried as he still hadn't removed his grip from Clint's shoulder. He gave the agent a brief nod. "Yeah," he breathed softly.

Coulson helped him up off the ground and wrapped his arms around the teen, smiling into the blonde's hair when Clint hugged him tightly in return. Phil found it odd. Before he met the youngster he rarely ever hugged, or let anyone into his personal space. He assumed Barton was the same, for different reasons though. Phil had never been hurt or abused, he just enjoyed having his space. But now he couldn't imagine a time when he didn't want to hug or comfort the teen in his arms. Glancing down to the end of the corridor, he spotted the Director standing casually by the elevator.

Both shared a look, then with a nod the Director got back in the elevator, leaving Phil and Clint alone. They stood side by side outside the holding cell, watching Karl as he paced the small room.

"Can he see us?" Clint asked, never taking his eyes off the man locked away behind the glass.

Phil shook his head. "No he can't. We can see in but he can't see out."

The teen walked cautiously up to the full length glass window of the cell and stared hard at the criminal inside. He was glad that Phil never left his side, just stood quietly, offering silent comfort.

"I hate him." Clint spoke suddenly, his voice filled with venom that Phil had never heard before.

"That's normal Clint. There is nothing wrong with hating someone who has caused you pain," Phil replied calmly, even though everything inside him was telling him to put a bullet through Karl's head. Forget the CIA, forget the rules, he just wanted to make this man disappear, anything to keep him from hurting Clint again.

"How long do you think he'll get put away for?" the teen asked, his voice quivering.

Phil clenched his hands into fists. "We'll make sure he never sees the light of day again, Clint." He turned to the boy with a question in his eyes. "Do you trust me Clint?"

"Yes." The answer was instantaneous and made Phil smile proudly.

"He is going to go away for a long time, and if anyone thinks of letting him out early they will have myself and Nick to deal with. You know what kind of influence Fury has," Phil promised.

Clint nodded with a smirk on his face. "Yeah I do."

"Then there is nothing to worry about." He pulled the teen close and started heading for the elevator to take them away from the man that was the cause of some of Clint's nightmares. Phil would make sure he didn't get to cause any more of them.

* * *

It was early the next morning that Karl was scheduled for transfer. Two CIA agents were there to assist with his removal from the SHIELD base to one of their own holding cells until the man's trial.

Phil stood back, watching carefully as they secured Karl's wrists behind his back with handcuffs. The experienced agent frowned as he took in the scene before him. Karl wasn't even struggling, wasn't fighting back or making taunts. He was just letting them take him away. Coulson felt alarm bells going off in his head.

The two CIA marched Karl from the cell and back towards the elevator which would take them to the garage, where their transport was waiting.

Phil stepped forward to block their exit. "Can I see those I.D's again? Just a precaution."

The first man looked annoyed but the second man, who seemed a little older and more experienced, nodded. "Of course, Agent Coulson." Pulling out his identification he motioned to the other man to do the same. The younger of the two huffed, but did as he was asked.

Phil handed the I.D's to the tech. "Make sure they are who they say they are," he spoke quietly, not wanting to let their guests to overhear. The tech nodded and scanned the information again.

It only took a few minutes before the tech nodded. "Everything is fine sir."

Coulson nodded. "Thanks. Sorry about that, can't be too careful."

The older agent smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'd probably do the same in your position."

Phil watched as they pulled Karl into the elevator, the man grinned, mouthing the words '_see you soon_' before the doors slid shut. Coulson felt his heart clench painfully in his chest, he still had a really bad feeling and it seemed obvious that Karl knew something they didn't.

Pulling out his cell, he hit the speed dial while heading for the stairs. "_Fury_."

"Sir I think something's wrong," Phil pointed out as he took the stairs two at a time.

"_What is it Phil_?" Phil swore he could hear Fury frowning over the phone.

"Not sure, but I'm going to find out." The agent pushed open the door that led to the garage just in time to see the white van pulling out. "Permission to follow sir?"

Fury rolled his good eye. He knew Coulson wasn't really asking his permission, he just wanted to hear the approval. Phil would have followed them with or without Fury's say so, especially if he had a feeling in his gut.

"_You can follow, but stay safe Phil. Any sign of trouble, you call me_." Nick hated to admit it but now he was getting a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Phil followed from a safe distance, watching everything around him with attentive eyes. He could spot anything that seemed odd or out of place from this distance. The white van stopped at a set of traffic lights, Coulson sat two cars behind them. Once the light changed to green, the van moved off then without warning a large blue off road vehicle slammed into the side of the transport, knocking it onto its side with the force of the hit.

Phil was already out of the car, rushing past the civilians that had gotten out of their cars to help.

"Stay back!" Phil shouted, while pulling out his side arm. "Call an ambulance and the police, but stay back!"

The young woman he ran past nodded shakily, pulling her cell phone out to do as he asked.

Coulson brought his gun up to bare as he neared the truck that had smashed into the van. The damage to the front of the white van was severe. Phil didn't think the two agent's would have survived the collision.

As he got closer he heard a groan. _It could be Karl_, he thought. _One could hope_.

He stepped up to the driver's door of the blue truck and aimed his gun inside. Frowning in confusion when he saw it was empty. _What the hell_?

The barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of his head, answering his silent question. Of course Karl would have people willing to help him, Phil just hadn't realised how far they were willing to go.

"Raise your hands!" came the gruff voice behind him.

Coulson obeyed, raising his hands slowly, letting them take the gun from his hand. The agent heard someone open the back of the van and help Karl out. So there were at least two of them, he could handle that.

The man behind him kicked the back of his knee, bringing him to the ground. The gun never left Phil's head. When the van door slammed shut he made his move. Phil twisted, grabbing the gun and yanking it out of the surprised thug's hand, the guy was thrown off balance which Phil used to his advantage. Landing a quick chop to the man's throat, he was already moving to the second man before the other fell to his knees, gasping for air. Phil ducked as the second man dressed all in black aimed his gun at him, the shot went wide as Coulson dropped to the ground and swiped the man's legs from under him. Phil kicked the weapon out of his attacker's hand, watching as it skittered across the road and under the truck.

Just as he was about to face his final target, a shot rang out, forcing Phil to freeze. He glanced at the smoking bullet hole which tore through the side of the van, a few inches from his head.

"Throw the gun down _Agent Coulson_," Karl spat. "Or the next time I fire I won't miss. Then who will take care of _street rat_?"

"You won't get away with this Karl. The last thing you want is SHIELD coming after you." Phil glared at the man, wishing he'd done what he wanted to do in the first place, shoot this man in the head and be done with it.

Karl smirked, keeping his gun trained on the agent. "So much for your little speech before about me never hurting Barton again. Guess who is first on my list." Tapping the gun against his chin in thought, he continued. "I'll even let you sit and watch as I show the kid why no one turns on me. He'll be begging me to kill him by the end and then, only then will I put a bullet in your brain, making him watch before I slit his throat."

Phil growled. "You sonofabitch! You won't get anywhe…." The butt of a gun connecting with his head, silenced the rest of Coulson's words.

"Get him in the truck." Karl ordered the two men. He knew it would be easy to just off the Agent but he had a score to settle with him too, and he could use Agent Coulson as leverage to get the teen to do as he asked. Then he could punish them both for thinking they could get one up on him.

They both glared, but did as they were asked, dumping the agent into the trunk of the car. The first man still massaging his aching throat, shot Phil a dirty look before slamming the door shut.

"We were told just to get you out," said the man who'd released Karl from the back of the van.

"Relax. I got this, besides….this is personal," Karl told them as he massaged his wrists, trying to get the blood circulating again. He couldn't help the warm feeling that flowed through him at the prospect of getting his hand on Clint Barton again, and his new dad was going to help him. Whether he liked it or not.

* * *

OMG...how evil am I? Bet you never saw that coming *chuckles evilly* more angst, action and rescues to come!


	18. Chapter 18

Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed - **WhomeverIAm, VioletBrock, BookFreak, kimbee, lovinthor, ASKessler, Lollypops101, Makurayami Ookami, Hope06,** **LostHawk, sammygirl1963, Anise Nadiah** and **Fyroni**.

I know I'm evil haha...more to come trust me ;)

Bit of Phil whump in this chapter and lots of Hawkeye (in the making) action!

* * *

Nick Fury knew before he received the call that everything had gone to hell. A police officer had gotten to the scene of the accident, taking statements from the witnesses and checking the smashed up van for survivors. The younger CIA agent was critical, while the other agent had died on impact. Nick was told that Phil's car was at the scene but there was no sign of him or Karl, or the ones responsible for helping the criminal escape.

Fury slammed his fist on the table, his anger overcoming his usually unflappable countenance. Phil should have known better, the Director told him to call if there was any sign of trouble. But then he started to think maybe Phil wasn't in a position to call, maybe he was injured. The thoughts spun out of control in his head until he slumped into his chair, sinking his head into his hands.

_How was he going to tell Clint_?

* * *

The teenager sat across from Molly, listening intently as she explained the history of Captain America, only because Clint had asked. He knew Phil was a huge admirer of the first super hero. Clint could relate; he saw Phil as his hero, his own Captain America, who stood for all things good and just.

Molly had smiled softly when Barton explained to her why he wanted to know the Captain's history. She found she couldn't not tell him, everyone had the right to believe in heroes, _didn't they_?

Outlining briefly what Steve Rogers went through to get what he wanted, to fight for his country, she then explained about Hydra, what they did and how Rogers managed to stop their plans. He put his life second, the safety of others more important to the hero. _Always look at the bigger picture_. Phil had mentioned that a few times to Clint. He hadn't been sure what it meant at first, now he was starting to get it.

"What happened to him?" Clint asked, chin resting on folded arms.

"No one really knows. He went down in the ice and no one has been able to find him." Molly noticed Fury standing outside the room, a serious expression on his face. "People are still looking though."

"Really?"

The older woman nodded, standing. "Give me a second Clint." She slid another history book over to the teen.

Clint nodded and glanced over his shoulder, he smiled when he saw Nick, frowning when the Director wouldn't meet his eyes. _Something was wrong_. He could feel it.

Molly guided the Director further down the hall. "What is it?" she demanded.

Nick sighed, leaning back against the wall looking defeated, and something Molly Barlow wasn't used to seeing in the Director's eyes, fear.

"Karl escaped. Phil is missing." Fury pinched the bridge of his nose when he heard Molly's sharp intake of breath.

"What are we doing to find him?" she asked, knowing it wasn't Fury's fault. He was just as upset as she was.

"I've got the techs looking over all security footage from the area, trying to see which way they were headed. We'll hopefully know more soon." The Director glanced towards the room, he knew Clint was in, with a heavy heart. "I don't know how I'm going to tell him."

Molly took his hand in her smaller ones. "You need to tell him the truth Nick. He just has to know he isn't alone. We'll find Phil, we have to," she finished off quietly.

Nick nodded, straightening up to head back to the room Clint was inside. Walking inside, with Molly in tow, Fury tried his best to keep his expression neutral, but as always the teen saw right through him.

"What's happened?" Clint asked, standing from his chair. His brows drew together in concern and he bit his lower lip, eye's darting between Fury and Molly in search of answers.

"Clint….." Nick started, then cleared his throat. "Phil's missing, he followed Karl's transport. It was hit by another truck, now Karl and Phil are gone."

Clint's faced paled as he listened. His hands gripped the top of the chair and suddenly it was flying into the wall to his right, leaving a dent before falling to the floor.

Molly started to move to the youngster's side but the teen held up his hand. _Don't_, was clearly conveyed with just a look.

"I've got people looking for them right now Clint. We're analysing the footage from all the security feeds in the area. We will find him," Fury promised.

Clint wasn't listening, he was too busy trying to keep it together, to not crumple into the corner in a useless heap and cry until no more tears would come. He knew that something was going to happen, he just knew it. Karl was a ruthless son of a bitch who had a score to settle. Well Clint was going to do whatever he had to do to make sure Karl didn't hurt the man who'd taken him in and given him everything he didn't even realise he needed or wanted. The man who'd given him hope, love and safety.

He was going to get Phil back, one way or another.

Barton stormed past Nick and Molly, ignoring their shouts of concern. He headed to the weapons infantry, grabbing his bow and quiver quickly. He paused before exiting the room as he caught sight of a wicked looking knife. Clint was very good with knives. He considered it for a second before grabbing the knife too. It was time to show Karl exactly who he was messing with.

* * *

Phil grunted in pain when a fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. He struggled against the ropes they'd used to secure him to the chair, wincing as the bindings cut into his skin. He glanced around the room through his left eye, his right was already swelling shut. The room was large and open, like an abandoned warehouse with hooks that hung from the ceiling. The smell of blood and rotting flesh confirmed Phil's suspicion that he was in a slaughter house. _Perfect_.

Karl stalked towards him with a malicious grin. "Enjoying your stay, _Agent Coulson_?"

Phil refused to show fear to this man, but panic was already seeping in, deep in his soul. This man wanted to hurt Clint, was determined to hurt his boy. Phil wouldn't let that happen.

Only one of the men had stayed behind with Karl, the other disappearing after dropping them off, probably to report back to their boss.

Karl turned to the other man. "Jackson, hand me his cell."

Grumbling under his breath that he wasn't some assistant, Jackson handed the phone to Karl. "Here."

Karl didn't seem to notice or care about the man's obvious issue with taking his orders. Instead he flipped open the cell and scrolled through the names. Once he found the one he was looking for he smirked at Phil, before hitting the call button.

It rang twice before the other caller picked up. "_Hello_?"

Karl beamed at the horror on Phil's face as he realised who he'd called. "Hello street rat, I've got something that belongs to you."

"_Don't you dare hurt him Karl_!" Clint shouted into the phone.

"Well see, here lies the problem Barton. I've already hurt him," he paused, glancing over at the tied up agent, "but I'm willing to leave him be, if you hand yourself over to me."

"_How do I know you won't hurt him anyway_?" The teen asked quietly.

Karl smirked. "You don't. But if you don't come I promise you, I will kill him, slowly and painfully." He heard the kid's breathing hitch. "You know what I'm capable of Barton."

"_Yeah_."

He finished with one final threat. "Tell no one. No SHIELD or CIA agents, I don't want to see anyone but you kid. Got it?"

"_I got it_."

Just to drive home the situation, Karl strode the two steps to Phil's side and swung his fist in a closed backhand, snapping his head to the side, again. Then he grabbed a fist full of the agent's hair and yanked his head back painfully. He put the phone against Phil's ear.

"Talk."

Coulson shook his head. Karl nodded to Jackson who walked over to join them. The shorter man punched Phil in the stomach, directly over the recently healed bullet wound. Phil couldn't help it, he cried out.

"_Phil_!" Clint cried over the phone.

"Don't do it Clint. Just leav…"

Jackson hit him again, a hard fist to the temple, knocking him out.

Karl growled, releasing his grip on the agent's hair and stalked away. He brought the phone back to his ear. "I'll send you the address. Come alone." Then he hung up.

Glaring at Coulson who sat slumped forward in the chair. He'd kill them both, he was just trying to work out who to kill first.

* * *

A Few Hours Earlier

Clint pulled on a pair of black combat trousers, a clean black t-shirt and his dark grey hoodie. He fished around in his bag for his belt, finding it at the bottom of the bag then he started looping it through the trousers. They were still a little big for him. Once he was ready, Clint secured his new collapsible bow and the knife to his belt, pulling his quiver over his shoulder, before making his way into the vents.

Barton knew where all of the vents led, he mapped his way around the whole base. It did take a fair amount of time though; the base was huge. He took the first left, then continued for what seemed like miles, stopping when he'd reached his destination: directly above the tech's station. They were scanning over all the security cameras, and other feeds they could hack into to find where Karl had taken Phil. Clint pushed down the dread that built up inside him every time he thought about his guardian, his friend, and what he might be going through. The agent was strong though, he could take whatever that monster dished out; Barton just didn't want think about what he'd find when he got there. Coulson had told him plenty of times that what had happened before wasn't his fault, that he wasn't to blame for every little thing. The young archer was finally starting to believe the agent, then something like this happened. Clint knew deep down it wasn't his fault, but guilt still ate away at him. He would find Phil, save him from Karl, and show the man responsible for the pain he was feeling that he couldn't scare Clint anymore. He wasn't afraid. If he kept telling himself that he might start to believe it deep down.

Barton listened to the techs as they spoke, bringing Fury up to speed on which way the blue truck was headed. They even brought up a map on screen, showing the route the truck had taken. It gave Clint a starting point. He knew a few of Karl's hideouts, places the man did some of his business and others he used to show people why they shouldn't mess with him.

The teen focussed on the latter. He knew of three buildings that Karl might use that were in that area. He would start with them first. Clint shimmied back till he reached a space big enough that he could turn, then moved towards his exit. It would take him to the roof of the building, next to the fire escape he would use as his escape from the base. Barton knew Fury would be pissed with him, but he needed to do this. He had to face his fear.

It took almost ten minutes for him to reach the roof. He pushed open the large vent cover and pulled himself out. Breathing fresh air into his lungs, he glanced around to make sure no one saw him then reached inside the vent for his bag. He checked his back to make sure his bow and the knife were still attached. Clint blew out a breath, readying himself for what he was about to do. The teen knew all the blind spots, something else he'd worked on from his time here. At first it had been in case he needed an escape, if things with Phil went south, thankfully that never happened, now he just enjoyed showing off his skills in hiding from security. Coulson was usually the only one that could find him when he disappeared. Now he was going to return the favour.

Clint made his way to the fire escape. Gripping the metal bars on either side, he didn't even bother with the steps. He slid down the stairs easily, using his feet and hands to slow his decent. Making quick work of the fire escape, he smiled to himself when he reached the bottom. The teen gripped the backpack which he'd thrown over his quiver, partially hiding it from view and ran across the street. He knew exactly where he could catch a ride, it was just getting there in time that would be tricky.

With no time to waste, the young archer sprinted through the back alleys. He knew most of the area like the back of his hand, spending so much time on the streets made him aware of his location all the time. He had to know where he was in case there was trouble.

Pulling his hood up to cover is face, Clint crossed the street keeping his head down before ducking into the next alley. The teen made it half way through the back alley when he heard them. Groaning internally, he didn't have time for this, Barton spun to face his stalkers.

Two teenagers, roughly eighteen from the looks of them, grinned as they stalked closer. One had his hair shaved with a tattoo on the left side of his skull. The other seemed to like piercings, they covered his eyebrow, lip and ears.

Tattoo man made to grab Clint's bag, but the youngster spun away, bringing his hands up defensively.

"Look what we have here Pierce, someone looks lost." Tattoo grinned at his partner.

Clint glanced between them, deciding who was the weakest. Phil had taught him to look at his opponents for weaknesses, anything that would give him the upper hand. Barton eyed up Pierce, _original name_, he thought.

Deciding quickly that he was the weak link, Clint moved. He kicked Pierce in the leg, watching as the man's leg gave way and smacked him hard in the temple. Tattoo growled as he watched his friend fall, then reached to grab Clint but the teen was quick. He slid away easily, lashing out with a high kick. The other man wasn't expecting the kid to be able to defend himself and felt the blow connect with his ribs. Tattoo fell backwards, wrapping an arm round his aching chest. Pierce decided to get back up, but was dropped with a spinning kick connecting with his face. He cried out as some of his piercings were ripped out, blood running freely over his eye.

Tattoo was about to charge again but his partner held him back. "Leave it, let's just go."

Both turned to Clint who wasn't even breathing hard and nodded at each other before running back the way they'd come. Barton chuckled, dusting himself off. He made sure his back pack was still secure before sprinting the other way.

He'd just made it another three blocks when his cell started ringing. Slowing down Clint reached into his pocket and pulled it out, glancing at the caller I.D. _It was Phil_.

He answered as quick as he could, needing to hear the man's voice. "Hello?"

"_Hello street rat, I've got something that belongs to you_," came the snake like voice.

"Don't you dare hurt him Karl!" Clint shouted, trying to keep it together.

"_Well see, here lies the problem Barton. I've already hurt him_." He paused. "_But I'm willing to leave him be, if you hand yourself over to me_."

"How do I know you won't hurt him anyway?" Clint asked quietly.

He was sure he could hear Karl's smirk over the phone. "_You don't. But if you don't come I promise you, I will kill him, slowly and painfully_." Clint's breathing hitched in response. "_You know what I'm capable of Barton_."

"Yeah." Barton knew exactly what he was capable of.

"_Tell no one. No SHIELD or CIA agents, I don't want to see anyone but you kid. Got it_?"

"I got it." Clint ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

The call went silent and the youngster thought Karl had hung up until he heard the sound of scuffling then a grunt.

"_Talk_," Karl snarled, but not to him.

When he heard the sound of fist hitting flesh, Barton thought he might throw up. Then he heard Phil cry out in pain.

"Phil!" Clint cried over the phone.

"_Don't do it Clint. Just leav_…"

Everything went quiet on the other end, but the teen only heard the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.

Karl growled, "_I'll send you the address. Come alone_." Then hung up.

Clint gripped the cell tightly in his hand, his knuckled white with the strain. He steadfastly ignored the wetness on his cheeks. Moving quickly to the next stop where he could catch a ride. Barton swore he'd make Karl pay.

Hawkeye was coming for him.


	19. Chapter 19

Authors Note: Thank you everyone who reviewed - **Hope06, VioletBrock, kimbee, lovinthor, Bookdancer, Lollypops101, ASKessler, Shadow The Assassin, Fyroni** and **Makurayami Ookami**. You all brighten up my day! :)

I can't believe there is only three chapters left, where'd it all go? lol

I would like to give you all fair warning that in order for me to continue this story, you can't kill me by the end of this chapter...;)

Enjoy!

* * *

Phil came to slowly, his head hurt or more accurately, it hurt so bad it felt like someone had jumped on it, repeatedly. The agent glanced over to the two blurry figures to his right, blinking away the blood that was dripping into his good eye.

Karl noticed that his prisoner was awake and ventured closer. "Enjoy your little nap Agent Coulson? Don't worry, you'll get a permanent one once Barton gets here."

Phil closed his eyes briefly, knowing that Karl wasn't lying. He knew exactly what the kid would do. But he also knew what Barton was capable of, something he didn't think Karl was aware of.

"You have no idea who you're messing with, Karl." Coulson spat.

The other man chuckled, pulling out his gun and playing with the safety. "You talk pretty big for someone tied to a chair." Karl pulled another chair over, sitting only a few feet away from the injured agent. "Besides, I know Clint won't tell your agency, he'll be too afraid I might actually kill you."

Phil glared silently at the other man, but was secretly pleased that Karl thought he was talking about himself or SHIELD. He obviously didn't perceive Clint as a threat, Coulson knew better though.

Karl stood, tucking the gun into the back of his trousers. "Let's pass the time until street rat arrives." He grinned menacingly. "What do you say?"

Coulson sighed, mentally preparing himself for another beating. His only comfort, knowing he'd dealt with far scarier people than the man before him.

* * *

Clint held tightly to the back of the garbage truck, using the part the trash cans were placed as a seat. He kept his head low, waiting for the right time to jump off. He had three choices: one, an abandoned building far enough away that it would get Karl off the streets and out of sight, two, a slaughter house that gave Clint the chills, and three, a club Karl frequented that offered a secluded basement to rough up or dispose of troublesome individuals.

Barton still hadn't received the text from Karl yet for the location, but he wanted to be as close as possible to give him an advantage. His gut was telling him to head to the slaughter house. Karl knew how much Clint hated the place, always putting him on edge; it had to have something to do with the hooks in the ceiling. The youngster swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of Phil being on one of those hooks.

Noticing that he was nearing his destination, he jumped from the truck as it slowed for the upcoming corner. Clint made it to a dumpster and promptly threw up everything in his stomach. He used his sleeve to wipe his mouth.

"Are you alright son?" came a gentle voice from behind him.

Barton spun round, taking in the concerned features of the older woman. She looked to be in her sixties, her white hair tied in a perfect bun and kind eyes stood out in such a rough neighbourhood.

Clint nodded. "I'm fine thanks."

The woman frowned, then nodded. "Alright son. But I think you should get yourself home."

"That's where I'm headed," the teen responded, giving her a small smile and a wave.

Clint followed the road straight, he knew it was another mile on foot. Reaching into his pocket he gripped the silver hawk. He thought about the old woman's parting words about 'getting himself home'. The young archer now realised that it wasn't a place that made a home, it was a person. Phil was his home and wherever the man was, that's where he'd go.

Barton felt the cell vibrate in his pocket just as he could see the building up ahead. '_Slaughter House, you know the address_.'

Clint grinned, already forming a plan in his head. He dropped the cell into his pocket. Karl wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

Phil was rudely awoken with a bucket of water being poured over him. The agent spluttered, shaking his head to dispel the freezing cold water. His eyes darkened at the smug look on Karl's face.

"Wakey, wakey sunshine. Time to get up."

Coulson bit down on his lip to keep from moaning in pain when he tried to shift to a more comfortable position on the hard chair. He was still working on the ropes, trying to loosen them enough to get at least one hand free. There was a little leeway in his bindings and he knew he'd probably rip the skin up on his hand if he had to yank it free. But if he found himself with a choice of saving Clint or shredding his hand, Phil knew exactly what he'd pick.

"He's on his way, you know." Karl stood in front of him with his arms folded across his chest.

Phil didn't bother responding. Instead he took stock of his injuries. Breathing hurt, so he had at least a few cracked ribs, maybe broken. His face hurt like he'd been used as a punching bag, which he knew was a pretty accurate description. Everything else felt bruised.

"What nothing to say now? You were so vocal in the holding cells at SHIELD. Is it because you know I'm going to hurt your precious boy?"

Coulson closed his eyes, slowing his breathing and counting to ten. He couldn't let Karl get to him, not now. The other man laughed, before the agent suddenly found himself being yanked out of the chair. A kick to the back of his leg sent him to his knees, the muzzle of a gun was pressed against the back of his head.

"Maybe I'll just end you now. Barton can walk in and see you hanging from up there," Karl hissed in Phil's ear, whispering the poisonous words in an effort to shake up the injured agent.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The familiar voice seemed to come from everywhere.

Karl spun away from Phil, his gun aimed at the wooden beams in the ceiling. He was sure that was where the kid's voice had come from. A quick glance showed him nothing but shadows.

"Show yourself Barton! Or I'll put a bullet in the back of your daddy's head."

The teenager's voice had never sounded so deadly. "No you won't."

Phil scanned the wooden rafters for his boy, a flash of grey and he couldn't help but smile. The kid always liked being up high. Phil knew of Clint's past in the circus, the kid was used to this sort of thing. He watched in awe as Clint moved with ease along the narrow beams like they were more than a few inches wide. He saw the young archer suddenly loosen an arrow, knocking the gun out of Karl's hand.

A distinct, almost girlish cry of surprise escaped the man's lips. He moved to retrieve his weapon but was stopped with a sharp kick to the face by the angry agent. Karl dropped to the floor unconscious.

Phil might not have been able to use his hands but it didn't mean he couldn't kick this man's ass. Coulson smirked as he watched the teen jump from the highest beam and latch on to one of the chains hanging from the ceiling. He swung back and forth a few times before releasing the chain and dropping to the floor in a light crouch.

"You alright Phil?" Clint asked as he made his way forward, eyeing the damage to Phil's face.

"I'm good," Coulson replied, "can you get these off?" he asked turning his back to Clint.

Concern flooded Barton's features as he saw the state of Phil's wrists, now wasn't the time to get distracted, though. The archer knew Fury would be here soon, he'd told him where to find Karl as soon as he spotted Phil inside the building. He pulled the knife out of its sheath and easily cut through the ropes.

Phil glanced at the knife then at Clint's innocent look. _What_?

Coulson squeezed the back of the boy's neck, then pulled him into a warm embrace. "I'm so proud of you." Clint was about to respond when movement caught his eye from the doorway. He reacted instinctively, one second the knife was in his hand, the next it was hurtling toward the man aiming his gun at them. The man dropped before he had the chance to fire his weapon, the knife protruding from his shoulder.

Phil stared wide-eyed, he should have been more alert; he knew there was another man in the building. _Definitely a concussion then_.

"It's okay Phil," Clint assured, squeezing Phil's arm. He turned to look at the unconscious man with a look of pure revulsion. The man who'd caused him so much hurt and pain was finally going to go away.

The sound of numerous vehicles pulling up outside the building had both Phil and Clint sighing in relief. The tired agent made his way over to Karl, making sure he was secured before stepping back next to Clint. He trusted the other agents to remove the unconscious felon as they headed towards Sam who was walking briskly towards them.

The medic called out to Phil just as the sound of a shot rang out. There were shouts from all around and Coulson ducked instinctively, turning in time to see Karl being tackled to the hard unforgiving ground by three agents. Another agent was lying prone on the ground.

Phil heard Sam shouting Clint's name, he turned just in time to catch the teen as he fell forward. His arms outstretched and blue eyes wide in shock. Coulson's brain shuttered to a stop, he couldn't process what had just happened. They were fine, everything was fine. Then as quick as a snap of fingers, everything had turned into a horror show.

"Nonononono….." Coulson cried brokenly as he watched Clint's eyes slide shut.

Sam scrambled to Phil's side as he lowered the boy on to the ground. The medic noticed Coulson's hands shaking as he pulled up Clint's shirt. His own eyes widened in fear at the sight of the blood flowing from the small hole in the kid's abdomen.

"Put pressure on it Phil!" Sam barked while pulling out his medical supplies. When he noticed Phil still wasn't doing what he'd asked, he gripped the man's face in both his hands. "We don't have time for this Phil, your boy needs you. Snap out of it and put pressure on the wound. Got it?"

Brown eyes blinked away the tears ready to fall and nodded. "Yeah," he breathed. Placing both hands on his boy's stomach, Phil had to fight the strong urge to vomit. He could feel the precious liquid seeping between his fingers as he tried his best to stop it from escaping. This couldn't be happening, he thought. Not after everything they'd been through. He wasn't going to lose Clint, not if there was anything he could do about it.

Sam resisted the urge to smack himself; he needed to focus too, not just Phil. It was hard enough when it was a friend, someone you knew, but when it was a just a kid, a kid he cared a whole hell of a lot for, it made it ten times worse. Placing gauze on top of the wound, he motioned for Phil to help him roll the teen on to his side. They did it on three. Sam blew out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when he saw the bullet had gone straight through. It still wasn't good but at least he didn't have to worry about the bullet still being inside.

"Can you hear me Clint?" Sam asked, checking the kid's pupils for a response.

"Y-yeah….I h-hear you…S-Sam," was the stuttered answer.

"Phil's right here Clint, he's okay. You did good son." Sam checked the teen's pulse, placing his two fingers against his neck. It was weak and erratic.

The medic motioned for the other agents walking towards them to go back to his car to bring the stretcher. The agents nodded, hurrying back outside.

"Clint, just hang on son. We'll get you back to SHIELD and you'll be good as new," Phil promised as brushed his fingers through the kid's blonde hair. The older man didn't even notice that he'd transferred the blood covering his hands into the boy's hair. "Just hold on Clint."

The teen stared at Phil with that intense gaze, his hand found the older man's left hand, which was still putting pressure on the wound. He squeezed it once. "I-I love you….P-Phil…." he whispered.

"Don't you dare...Clint? Don't you dare say goodbye," Phil cried brokenly.

The youngster smiled as his eyes slid shut.

"CLINT!"


	20. Chapter 20

Authors Note: Only one more to go after this, dun, dun, dun...

I've also noticed that I get loads more reviews the more evil the chapter...hmmm, thoughts for next story lol

I'm so glad you're all enjoying this, thanks to - **Bookdancer**, **Millie, Melissa, ASKessler**, **lovinthor**, **VioletBrock**, **ZhaLenn**, **Hawaiichick, Lollypops101,** **WhomeverIAm**, **Fyroni, kimbee, Qwerty124,** **R.W., Manicpanicgirl**, **Hope06** and **guest,** for your wonderful reviews!

Just need to let you all know that there is a _very_ brief, mention of _attempted_ rape of a minor in this chapter. No in depth description but just wanted to make you aware, this story is rated T anyway for safety.

Thanks and Enjoy!

* * *

Phil stood rigidly, unwilling to react to the crowd of people around him. He glanced away from the other mourners towards the trees. Clint loved being up high, he'd told Coulson that numerous times. Now the teen was high enough that no one would be able to hurt him anymore. The only one forced to endure a constant ache now was Phil. It burned deep in his chest as though it would burn him up from the inside out then set fire to the world so everyone would know the silent agony he was now forced to endure. The exhausted agent ignored the silent tears that leaked from his eyes.

A light breeze ruffled his short hair as he stared straight ahead, refusing to look down at the empty grave in front of him. It was a black abyss that had sucked every good thing from his life, a never ending hole that claimed the life of the one person he held dear.

He felt someone take his left hand and squeeze gently. Phil swallowed the lump forming in his throat, he wasn't going to look; he wasn't going to let slip the tears that seemed destined to fall from his eyes, like a never ending waterfall. If he didn't look, then maybe, just maybe, he could pretend a little longer that he hadn't let Barton down. The agent squeezed the small, delicate hand. Only because he knew Molly Barlow was his friend, because she cared for Clint as much as he did. Her muffled sobs caused Phil to close his eyes in anguish, breaking down his mental barriers. He raised a hand to his eyes to hide the tears that had fallen.

The priest finished his soft spoken words with a soft sigh, closing the bible he held in his hands.

Phil glared up at the sky as the sun started shining through the trees. _Clint had loved the trees_. The agent closed his hands into fists at the sudden anger he felt rise within him. How dare the sun shine on a day like this? How dare Clint be taken from him after all the teenager had been through in his short life? Clint Barton was a survivor, he'd made it through so much and now he was gone.

Coulson's gaze snapped up when he saw a figure standing by the tree. Without thinking, he ripped his hand from Molly's and marched towards the man who'd caused this, the man responsible for taking his Clint from him.

Ignoring the calls from Fury and Molly, Phil reached for his handgun, frowning when he found his holster empty. He glanced towards the tree and froze.

Karl stood there smiling, holding Clint firmly against him, the tip of a knife pressed into the soft skin of the teen's throat. Phil paused in his steps, watching as Barton's eyes pleaded, begged him to save him, to stop the monster from hurting him again.

Coulson took a step forward.

Karl brought the knife across the kid's neck. _Blood_. Karl didn't hesitate. The knife cut through the kid's neck like butter unleashing a river of blood.

All Phil saw was red as he sprinted forward, catching Clint as he dropped to the ground in a boneless heap. Barton's hand twisted in his shirt trying desperately to grab one more minute, one more breath.

_Clint! _

* * *

"Clint….!" Came the anguished cry from the man stuck in a nightmare.

"Phil…..Phil wake up." Nick slapped his agent across the cheek.

Coulson snapped back to awareness. His brown eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took in his boss's concerned gaze.

"Sir?" he questioned softly, his brain still trying to catch up. _Was what happened just a dream_?

The Director sighed deeply, before sitting in the chair next to his agent. "He's alive Phil. He's going to make it." Worry was clearly evident in Fury's voice, for both Clint and his agent.

A strong hand squeezed Coulson's shoulder, passing on a measure of comfort. Phil gave Nick a nod of thanks. "How is he? Can I see him?"

"They're moving him to recovery. You'll be able to see him shortly," Fury told his agent softly.

Nick watched Phil nod, then start working on pulling himself back together. The Director thought he'd seen his best agent at his worst, but he realised now he couldn't have been more wrong. Phil was a broken shell of a man. When Nick had arrived at the scene, he'd saw Clint being loaded into the back of a SHIELD medevac. Phil was frantic, pushing through the agent's to get to his boy, but he was held back, told to let the medic's do their thing, they'd save Clint.

Fury had walked over to his agent and rested his hand on his shoulder. It was only when Phil turned to look him in the eye that Nick saw how defeated he was, a distraught father wanting to know if his child was going to be alright. Fury guided Coulson to his car, helping his friend into the front seat and even pulling his belt on. Nick knew Phil wouldn't be able to do the simple task if the shaking of the man's hands was anything to go by.

They'd returned to SHIELD quickly, taking up permanent residence in the waiting room. Fury and Phil had waited for almost four hours until the Director decided to go find out what was happening. When he returned Phil was asleep, slumped back in the uncomfortable plastic chair with his chin dipped forward against his chest. Nick decided to leave him, Coulson needed the rest.

_Until ten minutes ago._

He watched Phil re-build his internal walls, becoming the agent he knew and respected.

Both their gaze's snapped to the door of the waiting room as Sam poked his head inside. "You can see him now."

Sam hadn't even finished the sentence before Phil was on his feet and out the door. Coulson stepped through the double doors, arching an eyebrow in question at the medic.

"Room fourteen," he supplied quickly, falling into step with Nick Fury as they walked along the corridor to Clint's room.

Phil stopped outside the room, his hand frozen on the door handle.

Sam clapped his shoulder gently. "He's going to be alright Phil. He's just sleeping at the moment."

The agent nodded and pushed open the door. It took a second for Phil's eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room. His eyes sought out the young boy on the bed, looking so small lying there and Phil found himself hating the amount of times he'd been left sitting at the kid's bed side. _Too many_.

Phil fell into the chair beside the bed, running a hand through his thinning hair. He reached forward, clasping Clint's smaller hand with his own before moving the chair closer; needing to touch the kid to make sure he was really there. Phil wouldn't survive it if he found out _this_ was a dream.

He watched the steady rise and fall of the teen's chest, feeling comforted in the knowledge that Clint would pull through. He then spotted the crisp white bandages peeking out from under the thin blanket and in that moment Agent Phil Coulson found his breaking point; he pulled Barton's hand to his cheek and cried. His attempt to build those internal walls had failed. There were cracks now and once the floodgates opened, there was no stopping it. Phil was left to come to terms with what almost happened.

Clint almost died. He almost died trying to save him. The agent was torn between being incredibly proud, and impossibly guilty. The youngster was always trying to protect him, whether he wanted him to or not. The same way Phil wanted to keep Clint from harm, it was a never ending cycle.

One of the machines started beeping faster, making Phil glance up sharply.

He was ready to run out and get Sam when he felt it. It was just a twitch but he dropped back into the chair.

"Clint?" he called softly, squeezing the kid's hand.

"P-il?" Clint whispered quietly.

"I'm here kid. You're going to be okay."

Phil grinned tiredly as Clint's blue eyes focussed on him for a second, then drifted shut. The agent couldn't stop the pleased smile from his face. His boy was going to be alright.

* * *

2 Days Later

"Phil….." Clint whined in a petulant fashion.

Coulson rolled his eyes, arms folded over his chest. "No."

"But…" Clint started.

"I said no, Clint. You're staying here until Sam says so." The agent almost laughed at the glare he received.

"Please, Phil. You know how much I _hate_ hospitals and I promise that I won't do anything I'm not allowed to do." He gave Phil his best puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

Phil grumbled under his breath about whiny teenagers, then shot the kid a worried frown when Clint seemed to pale considerably. "Clint?"

Barton held up his hand. "I'm fine. Just ... moved wrong."

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "And you want to leave the infirmary? Clint, you can barely move without being in pain. You need to give yourself some time."

"I'll be fine," the teen promised.

"No Clint. Give it another few days, for me. I don't like seeing you in pain." Phil saw the kid's eyes narrow.

"That was low, Phil."

"I know." The agent smiled, squeezing Clint's forearm. "You'll be out soon, okay. And I will be here for you if you need anything." He paused, then added, "So will Molly and Nick."

"Fine." Clint knew Phil was being overly protective; he couldn't really blame the man. He was the exact same when Phil had been shot. It also felt kind of nice knowing someone cared that much.

"So, do you need anything?" Phil asked.

"Ice-cream?" proposed the teenager.

Coulson nodded. "I'll be right back." He made his way to the door before glancing back. "Sauce"?

Barton grinned. "Chocolate, please."

Phil walked out the door with a nod.

Clint leaned back against the pillows propping him up with a soft groan. He was still in a lot of pain but was trying his best to hide it from the agent. Phil had enough to worry about right now. The door to his room opened and Clint was about to make a comment on how fast Coulson was, when he realised it wasn't his guardian; it was Molly.

"Hi Molly." Barton smiled at his tutor.

She smiled back brightly, taking the seat on the opposite side from Phil. "How are you feeling?"

"A little sore," he lied.

Molly shot him a knowing look. "Uh huh." She placed a book on the bed side table. "I brought you something."

Clint's eyes lit up when he noticed it was the book of foreign languages. "Really?"

"Yes. I figured you would need something to keep you going." She smiled. "And to keep you out of trouble."

"Me? Trouble? You must have me confused with someone else." His blue eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I think she knows exactly who she's talking to," Phil laughed, handing the small tub of ice-cream to the teen.

Clint huffed, but he was smiling on the inside as Phil and Molly laughed. It was nice to see after everything that had happened. The teen had been asked if he remembered what happened. He did, vaguely. Everything up to getting shot he remembered as clear as day. He'd been told that was normal. The memories could come back on their own or his mind could block them permanently. Clint was pretty sure Phil hoped he'd forget. The fear that flashed in the agent's eyes every time the shooting was brought up, made Clint hope he never got the memories back.

Molly stood from the chair and gave the youngster a kiss on the cheek. "Feel better, alright? I'll be back tomorrow."

Clint nodded, feeling the heat rising from his cheeks.

"You alright, son?" Phil asked, smiling.

"Yeah."

Molly gave Phil a peck on the cheek before excusing herself. Coulson felt his own face start to flush.

They sat in silence for almost a minute before Clint started asking when he was getting out of there. Phil chuckled in fond exasperation; he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

It was another five days before Clint was allowed to leave medical. Sam had given Phil the lengthy list of things the teen wasn't supposed to do. Phil nodded, they'd heard the same list not too long ago. He tried not to think too much on that.

Phil walked into the living room, pleased to see the youngster hadn't moved from his previous position on the couch. His favourite blanket draped over him, bare feet poking out the bottom. Clint had taken a slight stretch, growing at least few inches over the last month. Coulson was glad, the kid was still pretty small for his age.

Making his way over to Clint, he picked up the remote and clicked the television off. Then he picked up the various tubs of pudding that littered the small table. _Barton really loved his pudding_. Phil was about to brush his fingers through the boy's blonde hair when he saw the kid twitch in his sleep and mumble something under his breath.

Coulson waited for a second, needing to be sure Clint wasn't going to wake up on his own. When the teen's head rolled to the left then snapped back with a strangled cry, Phil acted.

Gently touching Barton's shoulder, he called out. "Clint."

No reaction.

He spoke more forcefully. "Clint!"

The youngster bolted upright with a cry of agony before Phil was there, helping him lay back down. Clint winced in pain at the sudden movement, his hand drifting to his stomach. "Ow."

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "You alright?"

The young archer wouldn't meet his eyes when he nodded. Phil frowned. "What was it, Clint?"

"Nothing."

"Clint…" Phil started but was cut off.

"I said it's nothing," snapped Clint.

The agent leaned back, unprepared for the amount of fear and anger in his young charge's eyes.

Barton lowered his gaze, he shouldn't have snapped at Phil. The man didn't deserve it; it was just his usual reaction to a nightmare, snapping at the first person he saw. Knowing he should apologise, Clint risked a glance at Phil. The man's face showed nothing but concern, as always.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly.

"For what?" Phil asked.

"For snapping at you. You don't deserve that."

Coulson sat on the edge of the table opposite the teen and leaned forward. "You can tell me you know."

Clint played with the edges of the blanket, a nervous habit he'd picked up somewhere along the way. "Tell you what?"

"About your nightmares, about the things that happened to you in the past." Phil watched Clint's blue eyes widen. "I'm here for you Clint. I will never judge you or hurt you in any way." He wasn't sure whether to push it further. He'd told Clint before that he'd never push him, but he just wanted to help. "Karl will never hurt you again."

Clint felt his heart thump wildly in his chest at the mention of the man's name. He looked up into Phil's understanding eyes and knew he could trust him. His heart had told him long ago to let the agent in, but Barton had been burned too many times in the past. He was happy he'd listened to his heart and not run away. Perhaps it was time he truly trusted the man in front of him.

"I met him after I left the circus, literally bumped into him. He saw I was homeless and offered me money and food if I did some things for him." Clint glanced at Phil, the man was watching him with wide eyes at the unexpected openness. He forged on. "It was easy stuff, dropping packages off, picking them up. I never questioned what I was doing, I was just happy to get some decent food or money. A few months later I found out how dangerous Karl was. You just didn't screw him over, especially if you valued your life." Clint paused, gripping the blanket tightly. "I'd seen him hurt guys, rough them up a little. But that night I saw him kill someone. I knew then that I had to get out while I could."

"What happened?" Phil asked softly. He squeezed Clint's hand where it was clenching the blanket.

"I think he knew I was trying to stay out of his way. I came around less and less. Only when I was desperate for money or food did I go back. One night I went round and he said he had one final job for me, then I could go. I was free to do what I wanted." Phil watched as various emotions filtered across the youngster's face; anger, fear, pain and disgust. The agent felt his chest tighten, he wasn't going to like what happened next. He could feel it. "I was shown to a room in the back of his club, a guy was already there, waiting. I heard the door lock behind me and panicked. The guy just sat there smiling at me, before patting the bed. I felt like throwing up. When he realised I wasn't going to do what he wanted he got up and we fought. He hit me a couple of times, managed to undo my jeans, then I kicked him in the groin."

Clint stared at Phil, feeling the wetness on his cheeks. The agent squeezed the teen's shoulder in comfort, letting him know he was there for him. "I managed to get to the window, it was small but I knew I'd get through. He grabbed my ankle before I got my head through and yanked me back on to the floor. All I remember is him kicking me, then trying to touch me and I freaked. Grabbed the nearest thing I could find and smashed it over his head. I think it was an ash tray or something." He shrugged, still unsure of all the details of that horrific night. "It smashed, he collapsed; I managed to get out of there."

Phil frowned, that didn't explain the scar on Clint's back. The one Karl had pointed out. "Clint…..?"

The teen sighed. "He used a piece of broken glass, slashed me across the back when I tried to get away. I kicked him in the face and ran. Spent the rest of my time trying to stay out of Karl's radar. I knew if he ever caught up with me, he'd kill me."

Coulson sat quietly, digesting the information. He couldn't believe the things the kid had gone through, the things he'd managed to survive. "How old were you?"

Clint played with the tag attached to the blanket, actively avoiding Phil's worried gaze. "Ten."

Phil blew out a frustrated breath. "So he didn't….?" he left the rest unsaid, knowing Clint would know what he was talking about.

"No he didn't," Clint told him truthfully. "No one has, if that was your next question."

Phil shook his head. "It wasn't." Leaning forward the agent rested his hand on the back of Clint's neck, squeezing him in an affectionate manner. "I won't let anyone hurt you Clint."

"I know, Phil."

Clint couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through him at the beaming smile that appeared on Phil's face.

Coulson stood, offering the teen his hand. "Come on, let's get you up to bed."

Barton shook his head. "Can I stay up for a little bit, Phil? I don't think I want to go back to sleep just yet."

Phil eye's softened as he stared at the kid. Clint was still afraid, he could see that clearly in the boy's expressive blue eyes, but he was fighting back against Karl's hold on him.

The tired agent nodded. "Alright, but just for a bit. Okay?"

"Okay." Clint grinned and pulled his blanket closer, then moved his feet so Phil could sit down on the couch next to him.

They sat watching cartoons for the next hour until Phil noticed the kid's eyes sliding shut. He flicked the television off and gently scooped the boy up in his arms, carrying the teen to his bedroom. Once he tucked him back in, he brushed his fingers through the soft blonde hair and smiled softly.

"Goodnight, son."

Clint grinned as the door closed, then whispered into the darkness, "Night, dad."

No nightmares plagued the teen that night. Just dreams of his future with Phil, watching over him.


	21. Chapter 21

Authors Note: OMG...I can't believe it's the end of this story, for now anyway *evil chuckle*

The response I've received for this has literally blown me away, thanks to all who have added to your favourites or followed, and a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed. You ALL officially rule...cookies to everyone! You have made a wee Scottish Lass very happy ;)

Thanks to** Huggs, lovinthor, Fyroni, Melissa, Bookdancer, VioletBrock, Manicpanicgirl, ZhaLenn, sammygirl1963, Lollypops101, Anise Nadiah, kimbee **and** Hawaiichick**.

Also a **massive** thank you to **DevinBourdain**, my awesome beta for all your help and suggestions throughout, and also for agreeing to help me with all my future Avengers projects. You're truly amazing!

So I'll shut up now ;) enjoy!

* * *

Epilogue 

Clint lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn't nightmares keeping him awake, he simply couldn't sleep. It had been almost two weeks since he'd been allowed to leave medical after being shot by Karl. The wound was healing well, all that would be left was a small scar. _Another scar_.

Barton had overheard Phil asking Nick if he could just shoot the man responsible, the man who'd caused so much pain. Fury seemed to seriously consider the offer, but in the end he knew Karl would never be getting out. The Director knew people and was using that influence to make sure the criminal never saw the light of day again.

Glancing to his bed side table, Clint couldn't help but smile when he saw the book. Phil had purchased him a new copy of _Robin Hood_, he'd even wrote a few words inside. Reaching over, the teen switched on his lamp and pulled the book into his lap. He opened to the first page of the book, trailing his fingers over Phil's neat handwriting.

_I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear. _

_Every day you conquer that fear and I am so very proud to have you in my life._

_I love you son,_

_Phil_

Clint closed the book with a grin. Phil always had a way of making his heart swell with happiness. Something he was really getting used to feeling. He placed the book back on the table and was about to switch the light off when he heard it.

_Thwack_!

Barton arched an eyebrow in surprise. It was usually him making that noise with his bow, climbing out of bed the teen made his way downstairs, to investigate the source. His eyes widened when he spotted the back door open and Phil standing in the garden, aiming the arrow at the target.

"Phil?" he questioned quietly.

The older man's head snapped to the left, where Clint stood. "Hey…Clint….I…uh…"

Clint chuckled, making his way to Phil's side. "Why are you out here firing arrows at two am?"

Coulson smirked, remembering saying similar words to Clint not that long ago. "Couldn't sleep. And I wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

"Uh huh. And?" The teen smiled when he spotted two arrows in the target, they'd hit the outer ring but he was pleased Phil had still managed to hit the board.

"It's more complicated than I thought." Phil frowned at the two arrows. He wasn't used to not hitting a perfect shot, the young archer just made it look easy.

Clint moved closer, adjusting the older man's stance. Making him relax his shoulders and raise his elbow, slightly. "Now pull the arrow back, your thumb touching your cheek. Then exhale when you fire."

Phil watched the teen step back, giving him some room. He followed the instructions and let the arrow fly. It smacked just outside the red circle but the agent beamed as if he just hit the bulls-eye.

Barton grinned like a proud teacher. "That was really good Phil."

"Thanks."

Phil handed the bow over for Clint to take a shot, he'd been making sure the teen took it easy and had told him not to use his bow until he said so. The young archer hadn't been happy but understood why.

Clint frowned. "You sure?"

A nod was his reply.

Barton grinned, then picked up another arrow, knocked it and pulled it back until his thumb brushed against his cheek; he took a deep breath, then exhaled. The arrow was a blur until it smacked into the target, hitting directly in the centre of the red circle.

A comforting hand rested on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Come on, Hawk. Let's get back inside.

Together they headed back into the warmth of the house. Phil walked into the kitchen and grabbed the carton of milk out of the fridge, holding it up in a silent question.

"Yes, please." Clint slid onto the stool at the breakfast bar.

Phil handed the teen a glass of milk while taking a drink of his own. "I was thinking," he started.

Barton arched his eyebrow in question.

"I wanted to invite a few people over for a BBQ. What do you think?"

"Sure, you know I wouldn't pass up free food." Clint smiled.

Phil chuckled. "It's always free food for you, kid."

The youngster shrugged.

"I want to let the neighbours know I do still live here," Phil told him, as if he was trying to explain the reason for having a BBQ. Clint knew the real reason was because he was trying to get things back to some form of normality. After Phil being shot, then Clint, things at SHIELD had been a little hectic.

"Oh they know, believe me." Barton smiled as he took a drink of milk. "You're old Mr Coulson, the bad man that scares the kids and stops them from getting their footballs back."

Phil looked hurt. "I'm not old."

"To the kids you are." Clint grinned.

They finished their milk, Phil taking the kid's glass and placing them in the sink. Clint slid off the stool and followed the older man to the couch. Both sank into the soft cushions with a sigh.

Coulson reached for the remote, flicking through the channels until he found what he was looking for.

_Super Nanny_.

Clint smirked as he watched the children run riot in their houses, swearing at their parents and just being little shits. He was starting to see why Phil watched this. It was highly entertaining.

"You didn't watch this to get ideas on how to control me, did you?"

"No, yes. Well at first, yeah." Phil paused, looking at the teenager next to him. Clint wasn't anywhere near as much trouble as he thought it would be in the beginning. "I thought she'd be able to give me pointers, but then I realised you were nothing like the kids she's asked to help. It sort of became a relief to watch what some parents had to deal with. Even with everything you'd been through Clint, you were a dream compared to those little monsters. I would never have survived if you were like them."

"Yeah, I'm practically an angel compared to them." Clint chuckled, "So total raise on my allowance then?"

"Don't push it."

Barton smiled to himself before turning to the older man. "I want to be just like you Phil. I want to help people."

"There are lots of ways to help people, son," Phil told him.

Clint gave a half shrug. "I know, but I want to do what you do." He looked Coulson in the eye. "I want to be an agent, Phil."

Phil nodded, he'd expected as much. "You're still too young to be trained as an agent Clint. But that doesn't mean you can't practise." He squeezed the teen's shoulder. "I'll help however I can, and so will Nick."

Clint couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. He was going to be an agent, he was going to be like his hero, like Phil. He never thought when he first met the man next to him that this would happen, that he'd finally have a home and a future to look forward to.

When the episode ended, Clint looked up at Phil, smiling when he realised the man had fallen asleep. He relaxed against him, resting his head against Phil's shoulder.

"You're not a scary old man to me. You're my hero," Clint mumbled, his own eyes closing.

It was quiet for a few seconds until Phil spoke. "You're my son, but that doesn't mean I won't send you for a time out if you call me _old man_ again."

The young archer laughed lightly. "Yeah, yeah…._old man_."

Clint nearly vaulted over the back of the couch to get away, laughing hysterically as Phil leapt from the sofa to chase after him.

The sound of laughter filled the house, bringing the promise of new beginnings and new memories.

The End.

* * *

Well I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I did writing it, and to all those who have asked if there will be a sequel...the answer is YES! I couldn't not do another, this one was soooo much fun.

I have plans for a few different stories at the moment, so I'm not sure how long it will take, but I hope you will all be patient ;)

I've also got plans to do a series of one shots from this story, showing Clint's birthday's through his years with Phil. If anyone has any suggestions on something they'd like to see happen, I will do my best to add it in. One will definitely be Clint getting to fight Uncle Nick haha...that's just too good to pass up!

Until next time

weemcg


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